


The Christmas Chronicles

by sennawritesthings



Category: The Winner's Trilogy - Marie Rutkoski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sennawritesthings/pseuds/sennawritesthings
Summary: an anthology of kestrel and arin during the christmas season
Relationships: Arin/Kestrel (The Winner's Trilogy)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Bedside Manner

**Author's Note:**

> let's hope i can finish all 25 of these before xmas hits. 👀🤠
> 
> for elora, the christmas season princess.
> 
> warning: the following anthology was written with reckless abandon and hasn't been proofread. it may contain improper usage of grammar, spelling mistakes, story holes, repetition, ooc characters, and overall hot messes of oneshots. reader discretion is advised.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kestrel has to spend christmas eve in the hospital after she slips on black ice. and who's her doctor? why, none other than arin of course.

The last thing Kestrel expected was for the hospital’s emergency room to be as packed as she found it on Christmas Eve night. In fact, the last thing she expected was to even _be_ at the hospital, waiting for a room to be looked at on Christmas Eve instead of spending her night at home, warm and cozy in her bed.

But of course she had forgotten one ingredient for the honeyed half-moons she’d planned to make in the morning. And of course as she was leaving the store, she slipped on some ice and knocked her head on the ground hard enough that she saw stars. Even now, three hours later, her head was hurt. That’s not to mention her foot, which twisted oddly when she fell. She was sure to have a sprained—if not broken—ankle, given how it throbbed whenever she moved it. She’d been sat in a wheelchair to keep her leg elevated, and given an ice pack to press against her ankle to keep the swelling under control while she waited, but she didn’t find that it was helping much.

Fantastic.

She tilted her head back, her neck uncomfortably cutting into the top of the back of the wheelchair, making her headache worse. She didn’t need to be checked to know that she had a concussion. All she wanted to do was sleep. And she probably would have if it hadn’t been for the screaming children, the hacking coughs of two elderly women, and the chatter of nearly everyone in the waiting room. Several nurses roamed around the room, tending to patients with less threatening illnesses like colds and a cut that needed stitches because his pet tiger accidentally bit him while they were playing. The noise was the only thing keeping her awake.

But maybe she could rest her eyes just for a little…

She didn’t sleep. She pinched herself whenever she thought she was getting close, but she kept her eyes closed against the blinding and hurt florescent lights to keep her headache from getting worse.

Faintly, she heard her name being called, but when she tilted her head to glance about the packed waiting room, she didn’t find anyone worth noting, so she settled her head back and shut her eyes again.

“Kestrel,” she heard again, clearly. Inquiring.

Light blue patterned scrubs filled her vision, immediately making her nauseous, but she swallowed down the bile that rose to her throat. “Yes?”

“You’re next,” the nurse with gray eyes said, wheeling her toward the door to have her vitals checked and then into a room. She was given a gown to change into. Once she was done, the nurse returned to set her up on a pulse oximeter. She lay back on the bed to wait for the doctor when the nurse left.

Here it was much more difficult for her to stay awake. To keep herself occupied, she tapped out a little melody on the crinkling paper beneath her, pretending it was her piano at home.

Where she should be.

Waiting for the clock to strike twelve so she could _maybe_ open her presents even though she’d promised she’d wait until Christmas Day when she wasn’t home alone.

So she wouldn’t sneakily open her presents. She wouldn’t do that. But she would rehearse her set for her next concert, given that it was on New Year’s Eve. Or she’d sleep because it was the very thing she lacked while she balanced her time with her rehearsals for the concert and her relationships.

Her eyelids became heavy with fatigue. She struggled to open them and she struggled to sit up to keep herself in motion. She couldn’t fall asleep.

A knock reverberated through the room, and into Kestrel’s head as if it had been on her forehead instead of the door. She opened her eyes as the door opened, the doctor striding in with the nurse from before.

She could blame her concussion for why her mouth went dry. She could blame it for why every thought she had flew out of her mind, leaving her speechless and incapable of doing anything other than stare at the doctor. She could blame it for her lack of breath and why her heartbeat embarrassingly elevated. She could blame it for why heat rushed to her cheeks when she took in the line of his jaw and the sharp gray eyes that were filled with concern. His lips were moving, and her gaze shifted to them and stayed there.

“Can you hear me?”

She blinked out of her stupor. “I’m sorry, what?”

The doctor frowned, his brows furrowed together. “I’m Dr. Arin, I’ll be your physician for tonight. Do you know why you’re here?”

Kestrel had become distracted by his lips again. A light flashed in her eyes, and Arin held a finger up.

“Can you follow my finger?”

As she tracked his finger, he repeated, “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I slipped on some ice.”

“Do you know your name?”

“Kestrel.”

At this, Arin tucked away the light, a corner of his mouth quirking slightly before it dropped into professionalism. “Kestrel,” he said, the small growl when he pronounced the ‘r’ sent a soft shudder through her spine. “Do you remember where you were? What you were doing before you slipped?”

It took every ounce of her strength for Kestrel to nod, and in doing so, her head spun. She shut her eyes, trying to get a hold of herself. “I was at the grocery store. I needed to buy something to bake.”

When she opened her eyes again, the doctor towered over her. He pressed his stethoscope to her chest, then her back and asked her to breathe deeply. His warm breath tickled her ear in a light chuckle.

“Baking?”

“Yes,” she sputtered out. “I wanted to make honeyed half-moons for the morning.”

It could have been her imagination, her concussion fuddling her mind into believing things that weren’t there, but the doctor’s cold fingers lingered at the small of her back, pressing into it in a small massage before helping her lay back. She could’ve imagined the glint of amusement in his gray eyes when she looked into them, and the slight flush of his cheeks.

The nurse scoffed, breaking their spell. Not enough to keep the doctor’s fingers from lightly trailing her body down to her ankle, the ring on his finger smooth, and even colder against her skin than his hands. He paused in his descent to give her thigh and calf a quick squeeze that had her swallow down a groan.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and her head hammered in her skull because of it, but she couldn’t bring herself to care so long as the doctor kept his hands on her.

“Those are my favorite,” Arin said, as he poked softly at her ankle and earned a hiss in response. He carefully tilted her ankle to the side and then again to the other side. “My mom used to make them the best, but I’ve had some recently that rival them, even if they’re always burned at the edges.”

He was trying to distract her, and it was partially working. But then his cold hands left her skin, and when she looked at his face, every part of her froze. It was equal parts anguish and worry that marred his beautiful face.

He blinked and licked his lips, drawing her attention to them. He cleared his throat, schooling his features back into part indifference and charm. Kestrel wanted to reach for him, to soothe out the tense lines in his face that gave away his ever growing concern for her.

“You two are impossible,” the nurse, Sarsine, huffed under her breath shortly before Kestrel heard the door to the room open and shut, leaving them alone.

Kestrel was immediately in his arms, his lips pressed against her face softly, as if his kisses would somehow make her injury worse. He mumbled assurances to her that she would be fine, that she only had what looked like a sprained ankle and a concussion like she suspected, but he would put in a request for an X-ray to make sure her ankle wasn’t broken, and for an MRI and CT scan of her head to make sure there wasn’t any lasting damage from her fall.

After a while, when she was thoroughly engrossed in his lips on her skin, he chuckled softly against her cheek, his forehead resting at her temple. “How did you not notice the ice?”

Dazedly, distracted, she retorted, “It’s called black ice for a reason. You have horrible bedside manner, Dr. Arin.” She felt his lips downturn at her sluggish response. Before he could bring it up, she nodded at his ring, “What would your wife think if she were here? What if your nurse tells on you?”

Arin snorted, “My wife...”

He nipped at her ear, pressing a kiss to the back of it, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. “My wife wouldn’t have a reason to be here because she’s normally, inhumanly observant of her surroundings.”

Kestrel clucked her tongue. “Accidents happen all the time.”

He pulled away from her to lay her back down on the bed. He bent over her, snaking an arm around her waist in an awkward cuddle. He lay his head on her chest, staring up at her with the worry that had riddled his face earlier. She put her hand on his cheek, her ring glinting in the light. He turned into her palm.

“They do,” he agreed, his eyes narrowing slightly. Suspiciously.

Kestrel pursed her lips.

His eyes narrowed further.

She slipped her hand into his hair, scraping her nails on his scalp gently. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, a shudder running through him and extending to her. He grunted when she tugged lightly on his hair. He snatched her wrist from him.

“Don’t distract me. I’m trying to work.”

“ _You’re_ distracting _me_ ,” she corrected, her eyes darting to his lips and she fidgeted to get closer to him.

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Ah, is that why you’ve been so sluggish in answering my questions?”

She raised a brow. “Maybe?”

Arin laughed, relief flooding through his tense features as he heaved himself up to brace his body on his forearms. He kissed her jaw, the corners of her mouth.“I missed you,” he said softly.

“I missed you too,” she sighed as he pressed his lips to hers, finally.

“Please tell me you weren’t running through the parking lot, hoping to hit a patch of ice.”

She giggled, kissing him again. “I didn’t miss you _that_ much.”

She felt his smile against her lips before he pressed them to her again and again and again. “Well, _I_ would miss you that much.”

She shook her head. “Fool.”

“For you? Of course.”

That earned him a snort, which in turn earned her another kiss. His lips traced her jaw and neck. He tugged slightly at the hospital gown to kiss nip at her collarbone. It was the first time Kestrel was grateful to be stranded at the hospital during Christmas Eve. She wouldn’t have to worry so much about going into cardiac arrest.

“I wonder—” She gasped when his tongue slipped into the dip of her cleavage.

“Hmm?” He hummed, smirking haughtily at her.

“What your wife would think of this,” she continued.

The doctor’s eyes glazed. He pulled his arm from around her, slinking it down to her legs, where she felt his fingers toy with the hem of the hospital gown. He ran a finger along her inner thigh. She moaned.

“Something like that, I think,” he answered with a laugh. He pulled away from her fully, laughing again when she settled a glare on him. “I’m going to put in for that X-ray and the MRI and CT scan. I’ll check on you later. Sarsine will be back to set you up on an IV.”

He kissed her forehead, turning on his heel without even an ounce of remorse for leaving her boiling.

True to his word, Sarsine returned and set her up on an IV. She’d rolled her eyes at Kestrel’s moonstruck eyes, and repeated, “You two are impossible.” But she’d said it with a smile.

Kestrel had had to wait an hour for an X-ray, and then two more for both the MRI and the CT scan. She knew she wasn’t going home, but when Arin returned with her results, she’d asked him anyway.

“Not tonight,” he said.

“My husband will be worried if he doesn’t find me home in the morning.”

“I think your husband is worried enough right now. It would be best if you stayed here tonight, where you can be monitored.” He explained her results to her, though they’d already known the outcome. When he was done, she’d been moved to an overnight room.

“Will you visit me?” She asked when she was settled.

“If I can,” Arin said. He kissed her cheek. “The doctor will keep me updated, though. And I’m sure Sarsine will come up every once in a while tonight.”

“Are we going home together when your shift is over or will I have to stay longer?”

“We’re going home. We have presents to open.” At this, he paused, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Little Fists, please tell me you didn’t peek at your gifts or open them without me.”

She rolled her eyes, hiding her wince at the strain of it on her head. “I promised I wouldn’t! Why do you think I was out buying ingredients to bake when you and I both know I can’t cook to save my life?”

Arin grinned, pressing another kiss to her cheek. “Good. I have to go. I love you.”

She pulled him to her lips. “I love you too.”

Just before he slipped out of the room, he said, “Merry Christmas, wife,”

“Merry Christmas, husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just assume i know what i'm doing when it comes to emergency medical procedures during a rush on holidays. let's also assume arin washed his hands before he touched kestrel.


	2. A Winter Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kestrel and arin hate each other. and they're chosen to plan the company's christmas party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? know how to title things? lol

The last thing Kestrel wanted to do was spend her lunch hour locked in a room with Arin, and yet that is exactly how she found herself under the orders of their supervisor.

All for a stupid party.

Every year, two people’s names were chosen out of a bowl to plan and set up the company Christmas party. It didn’t matter which department anyone worked in, or even how high or low their position was. If their name was on the payroll, they were participants, no matter how unwilling they may be. Choose to not participate for whatever reason, and they were shunned. It was an offense that, if it were possible and didn’t break many laws, would be punishable by job termination.

And of all people, her partner _had_ to be _Arin_.

She was sure their boss had done it on purpose. It wasn’t exactly a secret that she and Arin hated each other more passionately than a cat might hate affection. Their coworkers often teased them about it, trying to stir up trouble. But Kestrel knew Arin better than her coworkers thought, and she knew Arin knew her better, too.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, as the saying goes.

And that was exactly what Kestrel planned to do.

Day 1: 20 Days Until the Company Christmas Party

They were pointedly ignoring each other, choosing to stare at their laptop screens and pretend like they were working on their respective job responsibilities. But every once in a while Kestrel’s skin would prickle, and she knew that Arin’s steely gray eyes were on her.

Much like how her eyes would glance at him to make sure he was still in his corner of the conference room—as far away from her as he could get. Which wasn’t very far, only at the opposite head of the table.

At least she wasn’t breathing the exact same air as he was. Whenever they had to speak to each other, and they were in the same vicinity, his breath always smelled like honey. It made her nauseous.

So the less she interacted with him, the better, but she’d always be watching him.

Day 8: 12 Days Until the Company Christmas Party

Much of the same had passed between them for the last seven days.

Kestrel sat on her end of the table, typing away at her laptop when all she could think about was the man sitting on the opposite end of the table. She ate her lunch slowly, in order to have her mouth full in the event that he wanted to speak to her. But he hadn’t tried, though he’d taken to watching her more openly, not shying away whenever she returned his gaze.

“Kestrel,” he sighed. The sound of her name rolling from his tongue sent tingles up her spine like it always did. She hated when he said her name. “We have to talk in order to make this work. We’ve only got twelve more days until the party, and we don’t have anything planned.”

“ _You_ might not have anything planned yet, but _I_ do,” she said with a smirk.

She thought she saw him smile, but when she blinked, the slight lift she’d seen at the corner of his mouth was gone. He ran a hand through his hair—she kept her eyes firmly focused on his face and _not_ on his visible forearms—as he leaned back in his seat, blowing out another sigh.

“Of course you do,” he muttered.

Then he _did_ smile. Kestrel wanted to rinse her eyes out with bleach. And he chuckled darkly, which made her want to stick her fork in her ears. Anything so she wouldn’t have to hear or see him so… attractive.

Her food churned in her stomach. Attractive and Arin didn’t belong in the same sentence. Not by her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her glare didn’t faze him in the least it seemed, because he shrugged, folding his hands across his chest. “You’re prepared for anything.”

That sounded a lot like a compliment. Something Arin almost never gave her. If he did, she was certain they were backhanded, laced with malice. She couldn’t be sure if this was one of those or not. His steady gaze was throwing her off.

“What do you have so far?” he asked.

Kestrel minimized some personal tabs on her browser, making some other tabs full screen. She swiveled her laptop to show him. He straightened himself to see better, and every part of her tensed. On screen, she swiped through photos of the venue she’d picked out. It was mostly popular for winter weddings because of the large botanical garden that, in the winter, was preserved with a large glass dome that raised from the ground. She’d been there a few times, and could advocate for its beauty. Especially when it was snowing like the weather predicted it would be on the day of the party.

“This is the venue. I’ve already booked it.”

She changed to another tab. “These will be the caterers, which I’ve also already booked. But they’ll need to know how many people are attending to know how much food to make.”

Arin nodded, then asked, skeptically, “They’re not the same people from last year, right?”

They both shuddered, thinking about how many people found hairs in their potatoes and someone found a nail in their soup.

“Absolutely not,” she croaked. “Do you know they called to see if we would want to hire them this year because no one else wants to?”

Arin threw his head back in laughter, and Kestrel’s chest filled with invisible knives. It was like his laughter was fueled by sucking her soul from her body. She tampered her lip curling in disgust.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, we still need to handle the decorations, the invitations, the raffle gifts, and the DJ.” She flipped her laptop back to face her. She pulled up mock ups she’d made of the invitations and turned the screen toward Arin. “I made this for the invitations, but I don’t think I like the design much.”

Arin stood, raising a brow when Kestrel did too, gripping her pen like it was shield. She thought she saw him about to laugh again, but he held up his hands in mock surrender and inched toward a chair closer to her. He sank down in the seat next to her. She sat slowly, eyeing him suspiciously.

He nodded at her laptop. “May I?”

She nodded, still gripping her pen tightly in her hand.

He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, a teeny tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it dimple poked his cheek. Kestrel only noticed because she’d memorized every expression Arin had. He studied her mock ups for a moment, turning to her with an expression she _hadn’t_ seen on him before except recently, when she caught him looking at her while they worked instead of planned the party. It gave her goosebumps and flutters in her stomach.

It made her sick.

“What’s wrong with it?”

She shrugged, turning her attention to her previously forgotten food. “It’s missing something.” She bit into her salad. “I think it would be better to coordinate it with the decorations.”

Arin was silent for a minute. Two. She thoroughly chewed her food until it was a disgusting mush that she eventually had to swallow and did it over again, ignoring his eyes on her. _Trying_ to ignore his eyes on her, because she felt them on every inch of her skin despite being fully clothed.

“What? You don’t have that prepped too?” He teased.

She glanced at him sidelong, still taking her time with her food. His eyes glittered with amusement. He smirked at her mockingly. She squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin.

“No,” she admitted tersely.

“Hm,” Arin hummed. She felt the vibration of it in her veins. “Better for me, then,” he said with a tilt of his head as he browsed through her party planning notes. “I was thinking we could do something different this year. Maybe we could have a theme.” He studied something with particular interest. “Maybe a winter masquerade?”

Kestrel hated to admit it, but it was a good idea. She wished she’d thought of it first. For all her preparation had done, what good was it if she couldn’t beat Arin artistically? She pretended to mull over the idea.

“Will it fit within the budget?”

Arin glowered. “You know there’s no budget, Kestrel.”

She almost smiled. Almost. His eyes drifted to her lips. Her cheeks warmed. “Um, fine. That’s great. What about the—”

Her playlist cut her off. A melodic tenor of the singer’s voice drifted through the air. Kestrel immediately relaxed, then scrambled to turn rip her laptop away from Arin. She shut the music off. Arin had been peeking at her personal tabs. She hoped he hadn’t seen anything beyond her music player.

“What do you think—” She started berating him, but when she turned to him he had another weird expression on his face. It was something like awe and something like… She couldn’t tell because he righted himself with a small shake of his head and scrunch of his brow.

“Who was that?” he asked, his face slightly pale. His hands had vanished beneath the table, and she had no doubt that he was gripping his knees the way he did when he was trying to figure something out.

“The singer?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know. No one does. He doesn’t have any social media—he just uploads his music anonymously, and that’s it.”

Arin stared at her with those weird eyes that she couldn’t read. “I liked it,” he said, stiffly.

Great. One more thing she’d have to share with him besides their job, existing in the same world.

“I love him.” Arin coughed. “His music is what helps me fall asleep at night.”

Suddenly Arin stood, making his way toward the end of the table to gather his things. “You know I just forgot I have this thing I have to do.” He stopped to glance her. His face reddened slightly, and his jaw tensed. He clenched it, then proceeded to get his things packed, striding for the door the minute he had all his papers and laptop in his arms.

If she didn’t know any better—and thank the inexistent gods that she did—she’d have thought he was almost… jealous.

“But we still need to work on the DJ and the dec—”

“Tomorrow,” Arin threw at her over his shoulder and was out of the conference room they’d been given. She stared at the open door.

“Weirdo,” she muttered under her breath and finished the last of her lunch before packing her own things to return to her office.

Day 10: 10 Days Until the Company Christmas Party

Arin _hadn’t_ shown up to the conference room the day before, and Kestrel suspected that he wasn’t going to show up again.

She’d been waiting for half an hour for their hourlong lunch time, and Arin hadn’t even breathed in her direction. He hadn’t even thought to spare her at least an email to let her know that he wouldn’t have the time to help her with the party.

To think they’d semi-gotten along two days ago. And maybe she hadn’t hated it as much as she did at the time. Maybe. She pushed away the image of his eyes glancing at her lips.

 _Ass_.

Kestrel grumbled to herself as she closed the tabs to all his social media.

Day 12: 8 Days Until the Company Christmas Party

Arin had avoided her again the day before, but he couldn’t avoid her if she arrived at work early, specifically to wait in his chair at desk for him to come in. To make matters more serious, she left the light off. If he had a heart attack, good riddance. That’ll show him to leave everything on her shoulders.

The party was in eight days, and she still didn’t have a clue on who to book for the music. She thought about using the DJ from the previous year, but all she’d played was EDM. And the DJ before that had only played ballads, which resulted in more than a few tears shed as the songs forced them reminisce things they didn’t want to.

She’d ran with Arin’s masquerade idea and conjured up a color scheme of gray, white, dusty pastel blue, shimmers of gold, and lilac to make the invitations. She’d shared them with her coworker, Verex, to get his opinion since Arin was suspiciously missing in action when it came to her. She’d sent it out via email when she had Verex’s approval.

Because Arin was avoiding her, while she was at home, she’d scoured thorough different home decor websites to look for decorations to match the color scheme. She’d have to pick them up after work, but there was still so much more to get done.

Loathe as Kestrel was to admit it, she _needed_ Arin.

Who screeched as he turned the light on, spewing curses that she didn’t think ever came out of his mouth. She kind of… liked it. It made him less perfect.

“Gods, Kestrel, what the _fuck_?” He clutched at his chest, leaning against the wall to keep himself steady.

 _Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh._ She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of witnessing her elated emotions, but it was a struggle when he cursed, “ _shit_ ,” and scrubbed at his face. The chuckle was out of her throat before she could stop it. It was followed by a giggle, and shortly after, full blown laughter.

Arin staring at her as if she’d grown another head only made her laugh harder. The tips of his ears turned pink, and his expression softened into yet another expression she couldn’t decipher. He was making a lot of those lately. She didn’t like that there were still some parts of him she hadn’t seen.

It gave him an advantage over her.

Kestrel brushed away the tears that had spilled from her eyes, inhaling deeply to catch her breath.

Finally, he scowled. “Is there a reason why you’re waiting in my office like an axe murderer?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t know if you remember, but we’re supposed to be working on this stupid party.”

“No, I remember,” he said, nonchalantly. He grabbed his briefcase from where he’d dropped it in his scare. Another giggle escaped her lips, but she swallowed the following bout of laughter down when he settled her with a warning glower.

“Then I expect to see you in the damn conference room during lunch today.”

He lifted a brow at her. Though she was sitting and part of her was covered by his desk, Arin’s eyes grazed over her body head to toe. Heat curled in her core. “Or what, _Little_ Fists?”

Kestrel bristled at the nickname, but collected herself quickly. “Or you’ll regret having me as your enemy.”

*

For the hour of their lunch, Kestrel shared the invitations with Arin, who approved of them. Not that it mattered since she’d already sent them out, but his approval filled her with something like pride. Or it could’ve been gas. She did eat half a leftover burrito for lunch.

Then they searched the internet for a DJ, watching countless videos, skimming through hundreds of social media posts until they narrowed it down to three potential candidates. Two of them were playing back to back at a club over the weekend. They’d reached out to the third to arrange for a small, private viewing to watch them live.

“We should go,” Arin said, breaking the silence that had settled between them while they tried to find more decorations. “To see them tomorrow. And to shop for the decorations and raffle gifts.”

The rejection was on the tip of her tongue, but she thought about it. They only had eight more days left to plan. They weren’t having the best luck with finding stuff online. And the things they did find, they didn’t know if they would arrive on time, so they’d have to work on the party after hours from thereon anyway.

But that meant Kestrel would have to be alone with him for longer than the hour they were given.

An hour, she could handle. She wasn’t sure about what would happen if she spent a whole day with him, and then went out clubbing.

Not that they were going _out_ out. It wasn’t a date. Right? Right. It wasn’t a date. Technically, they were working. Outside of work hours. At a club. But they were working, even if they weren’t being paid for it.

She made a note to brush her teeth to clean away the taste of bile at the thought of being on a date with Arin. Holding his hand. Lifting herself onto her toes for a goodnight kiss. She almost gagged, rubbing her fluttering stomach soothingly.

“All right,” Kestrel agreed.

“It’s a date.”

No, it wasn’t.

But she didn’t correct him.

Day 13: 7 Days Until the Company Christmas Party

Kestrel was five minutes early to their designated meeting place.

It wasn’t like she’d rushed or anything—she always gave herself an ample amount of time to get ready and be somewhere on time. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t changed her outfit at least ten times before settling for a turtleneck sweater, jeans, and some comfortable kitten heeled boots. She’d taken her time with her hair too, painstakingly braiding part of it along the crown of her head and curling the rest of it. She’d even attempted to do her makeup, which didn’t come out looking half bad, all to keep the time passing.

The intention was to look like she wasn’t trying too hard, like the way she looked during the work week, but better because they _were_ going to a club and she wanted to look cute for it, and she had no intention on going back home to change. Her appearance would’ve been an excuse for why she would’ve been late, but there she was.

Early.

Looking as though she were eager to spend the day with the bane of her existence when all she wanted to do was jump back into her car and drive off a cliff to keep Arin’s eyes from looking at her. She didn’t want to see his face when he saw her. She didn’t want to know what he thought about her.

But instead of doing that, she sat on a bench, people watching while she waited for him. She burrowed her face into her scarf to shield it from the arctic breeze, shoving her hands into her coat pockets, berating herself for not waiting in the car with the heat on. They’d exchanged numbers (the knowledge made her want to change hers or better, get a new phone entirely). He could’ve texted her of his arrival and _then_ she could’ve left her car.

Pathetic.

But then she was berating herself for not thinking to text him that she was there because what if he was doing just that?

Just as she moved to pull her phone from her pocket, she heard the breath of a word she didn’t entirely recognize. Only that it was in Herrani—Arin’s native language. She swiveled in her seat, and her mouth instantly went dry.

Kestrel hadn’t tried very hard, but it seemed like Arin _had_. There was no other explanation for the clothes that seemed specifically made for him given how they tailored his body in a way his work clothes didn’t. Or for how his normally unruly hair was slightly tamed, pushed away from his eyes for once.

She could very clearly see him eyeing her as she was him, but it was different too. Where she eyed him with intrigue, and a little disgust both at how good he looked and how she hated that she liked how he was dressed—not that she didn’t any other day or that she ever paid any attention to his wardrobe, she just found it nice that he would go to such lengths—he looked at her like she’d just gifted him something valuable. She squirmed slightly in her seat.

Driving off that cliff was growing more and more appealing. Anything to curb the warmth that spread through her the longer Arin stared at her and the urge to wrap her arms around him tightly. She glanced at his lips briefly before looking away.

She stood from her bench, tucking away her phone before turning to face him again. He avoided looking at her, making it seem as though he was checking out the shopping center, and she couldn’t tell if his cheeks were pink because of the cold… or because of her.

Arin waved a hand at a store. “Want to try that one first?”

“Sure.”

*

She wasn’t counting, but thus far, it had been a grand total of seven hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-two seconds of Kestrel and Arin being in each other’s presence. They’d found everything they were looking for in terms of decorations, but they wouldn’t be able to decorate until the day before the party, so they piled them up in Arin’s trunk and the raffle gifts they’d shoved in Kestrel’s.

It had been such a long time, and they’d done more walking than she thought she’d done in her entire life, that she’d changed her shoes into the flats she’d stashed in her car just in case. She still looked cute, but she liked the way the heels looked better.

They still had some time to kill before the club opened up. A whole four hours left of time to kill. She’d counted.

Kestrel sipped on her water as she watched the hustle and bustle of the restaurant she and Arin had stopped in to get some decent food into their stomachs before going to party. She reminded herself that it was just Arin, they were working, and that this wasn’t a date, even if to those around them it seemed like one.

Sometimes it _did_ feel like one. Sometimes she’d catch Arin looking at her differently, like he did when they’d met up hours ago, but then he’d turn his attention to something else and act like it didn’t happen. Sometimes she’d catch _herself_ looking at Arin differently. She didn’t know how different, but she knew it in the way that she didn’t want to put a bag over his head so she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. She knew it in the way that, when he’d walked through an aisle full of lit Christmas trees and the lights bounced off him, making him glow like he was a walking god, she’d wanted to take a picture and set it as her home screen.

She didn’t because that would be weird, but she wanted to.

She couldn’t wait until their food arrived. Their silence was easier to handle when they had their menus in front of them and were deciding on what to eat. The appetizers had arrived and promptly been devoured in an effort on both their parts to keep from speaking to each other. But the restaurant was busy, and they appeared to be short of staff, so their waiter was too busy to bring more.

Up until then, their conversations had been easy going. Granted, they’d mostly talked about the party, but they’d been speaking to each other. And even though his voice grated her nerves and made parts of her tingle, she would rather listen to him talk than sit in the uncomfortable silence.

Her roaming eyes caught sight of a piano that looked eerily like the one that her mother had when she was a child. Her father had sold it a week after her mother died because he couldn’t bear to see it in his house anymore, despite Kestrel begging him not to.

It had always been her dream to learn how to play, and her mother had always promised to teach her, but she was always busy. And when she finally wasn’t, she got sicker and sicker.

Kestrel had only learned to play because of years and years of begging her father for lessons, and those had stopped when she reached college because she was old enough to pay for them herself. Never mind that she didn’t have the money to pay for them, and that the moment she turned eighteen her father turned her away from the house.

Arin must’ve followed her line of vision because he said, “You play.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew just by her looking at it.

“Not really,” she said with a shake of her head. “Not since high school.”

“But you want to.”

Did he notice the twitch in her fingers? The slight shake in her hands that gave away her longing to sit at the bench and pour her heart and soul into the keys? He couldn’t have. She’d thought once that she knew him as well as he knew her, but she’d never thought about what it actually meant until just then.

He read almost as easily as she read him. They didn’t have secrets between them, no matter what she told herself. It bothered her. But it also didn’t. It made her less lonely in a way.

“Yes.”

That simple word lifted something she hadn’t noticed before off her shoulders. She felt lighter. She could breathe easier. She felt less… angry.

That simple word opened a door for them.

Silence evaded them for the rest of dinner.

*

Kestrel decided Arin was more than just the bane of her existence, and it was a mistake to go out to a club with him. Well, not _with_ him. As in a date. Because it wasn’t a date. It was overtime. Regardless, it was still a mistake and he was her sworn enemy.

While she watched and listened to the DJs, taking note of which one she liked the best, Arin was too busy fending off the girls that flocked to him like ants to a fallen churro. She’d explode if she had to hear them beg for a dance— _I don’t dance_ , he’d reply—or if he was single— _that’s to be determined_ , whatever that meant—or if they wanted to go somewhere more private— _I’m perfectly happy right here_ , a small nudge in her side that the girls either ignored or didn’t see, but what did that mean?—one more time.

They’d leave disappointed, but Arin was never alone for long because another one or another group would place themselves in front of him, size Kestrel up, and decide, that no matter how close they stood to one another (which wasn’t very close because she still needed to breathe air that wasn’t the honey scent that radiated from him and always seemed to nauseate her, but it was close enough that people could tell they were there together), she wasn’t a threat.

She didn’t care about that, though. She didn’t care about their lengthy conversation at the restaurant where he shared his life story with her. That was a fluke. She didn’t care that at the stores they went to, Arin would point out something he thought she’d like like it was game to him and it would piss her off because she _did_ like them.

She wasn’t jealous because there was nothing to be jealous of. It was Arin. Her enemy.

Kestrel pivoted her body to flag down the bartender and ordered two shot that she downed in quick succession, relishing in the burn of it in her throat. She blinked away her tears. She ignored the skin prickle she felt, the tell tale sign that Arin’s eyes were on her, as she strode for the dance floor. If he could play while working, then so could Kestrel.

It didn’t hit her until she was in the midst of the sweaty, jerky swarm of bodies that Kestrel didn’t really know how to dance anything that wasn’t the waltz. And what the DJ played was definitely not waltz worthy. She was sure to look like a complete idiot if she busted out into one, assuming she didn’t already look like one just standing in the crowd, dodging flailing limbs, but her pride refused to take her back to the bar where Arin and the girls were.

Just one the side of the dance floor stood a waitress with a tray full of shots. Kestrel waved her down. She knew it was a mistake to drink when she had to drive home later, but she she needed something to take the edge off. She took two, a light settling over her. It was enough for her limbs to slightly turn to jelly.

When Kestrel made her way back into the middle of the swarm, she’d danced her way through. She didn’t notice much when she was pulled to dance with other people or when she was left to dance on her own again. She just let the music guide her.

Until someone behind her decided to get a little handsy. She glanced at them over her shoulder. She glared in response to his grin. He shrugged, holding up his hands as if to say it was an accident. But she knew better, and she knew that it was time to go.

As she made her way back to the bar, the song had changed, slowed. The people slowed too. Instead of jumping or jerking around, they fused together, grinding on each other. Someone tried to drag her into it, but she shoved them away and continued on her way.

The guy from before grabbed her wrist and whirled her to face him. “Want to dance?”

“No,” she responded firmly, pulling herself from his grasp and turned toward the bar. She felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s dance.”

“I said no.”

She kicked his shin with every intention on leaving once and for all, but his grip on her shoulder tightened instead of dropping like she hoped it would.

Through gritted teeth, he spat, “I really think we should dance.”

The same word from earlier, the Herrani one that Kestrel couldn’t translate, sounded beside her. She didn’t know when exactly Arin had left the bar, or when Arin had sidled up to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not especially at the relief that flooded through her, and the heat that swelled in her bones as his fingers danced on her forearm, just before he tangled their fingers together.

“There you are,” he said with a smile that made her want to puke—but that could’ve also been the alcohol in her system, given that she’d always been a bit of a lightweight. The pressure on her shoulder vanished as he brought her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist, settling a hand on her hip that she felt in every single part of her body.

Though the song wasn’t meant for the swaying slow dance, Arin pulled her closer still and guided them into a slow dance. They didn’t twirl. They didn’t move except side to side. But they were dancing.

She was dancing with Arin, and he was nuzzling his nose in her hair. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to lean into him or push him in front of a moving bus and follow him shortly after. The lines were blurring. Way too many lines were blurring for her to be comfortable, and Kestrel didn’t know if she was drunk off her feet from the alcohol… or from Arin.

“Are you drunk?” she blurted out to him.

The whole upper half of his body shook with laughter that she felt in the pit of her stomach. Lower, if she was being honest with herself, and most of the time she wasn’t. “No.”

“Oh.”

Neither of them said a word as they swayed side to side for the entirety of the song. Not even when it was over, and Arin pulled her away from the dance floor and back to the bar, where one of the DJs—the one she’d liked the most—waited for them. He’d held her hand all throughout their conversation with her. She’d feel his thumb graze over the little star birthmark near her wrist.

He held her hand as they left the club.

He held her hand as they walked, silently, toward their cars, escorting her to hers.

He held her hand as he asked if she was okay to drive.

He held her hand until the very last second, when Kestrel had to close her door.

Before Arin could walk away any further, Kestrel flung her door open again. All day and night she’d been thinking about something that _she_ had an answer to if he ever asked, but she could never quite figure out his answer for it.

“Arin,” she called out. He stopped and peered at her over his shoulder. “Why do you hate me?”

He turned toward her fully, frowning. His brows furrowed together. “I don’t hate you?”

He’d posed it as a question, but Kestrel knew that he wasn’t unsure of his feelings. His expression gave it away. She didn’t know how she didn’t notice it before. He just didn’t understand why she would think he hated her.

Kestrel had begun to think that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought at all. And that made her heart break just a little.

Day 14: 6 Days until the Company Christmas Party

Kestrel wanted very much to stay in her warm, cozy bed and sleep through the light headache she had from the few shots she’d had the previous night and from the lack of sleep.

She’d arrived home at nearly four in the morning, but instead of crashing, she’d tossed and turned. The ghost of Arin’s hand in hers, of his face pressed in her hair, of their bodies flush against each other, of _I don’t hate you,_ kept her awake. Not even her favorite singer could help her relax. And then the sun came out, and she knew she wasn’t getting a wink of sleep.

She distracted herself from thinking too hard about the events of last night by tallying the RSVPs and composing an email to the caterers to let them know how many people they would be expected to serve. Then by online window shopping for a dress and matching mask for the party. But it wasn’t a very good distraction because she wasn’t having any luck finding a dress or a mask, and _I don’t hate you_ thrummed in her with every beat of her heart.

Kestrel leaped out of bed, showered, and got ready for the day. It was clear that she couldn’t be alone, lest she start thinking disgusting thoughts about the one person she hated more than anything known to man. She had to focus on other things. Namely, what she was wearing to the party.

She vaguely remembered a dress that had caught her eye the day before while she was shopping with—while she was out shopping. She would try that one.

She inhaled her breakfast and slammed the door shut, locking in the intrusive thoughts that haunted her.

*

It wasn’t until Kestrel was back at home, trying on the outfit she’d planned in her head that she noticed she’d unconsciously picked out a dress whose color was uncannily similar to a disturbingly familiar set of eyes.

And that the mask matched the unruly hair that belonged to the owner of the eyes.

Kestrel shoved the dress and mask into a box that she shoved into the back of her closet.

Day 16: 4 Days until the Company Christmas Party

The differences were subtle.

Well, subtle wasn’t the right word, given that Arin had blatantly sat one seat over from her, so he wasn’t exactly sitting right next to her, but he was still close enough that if they reached for each other, they’d be touching.

Not that there would be any reaching for each other. Not in this lifetime or the next or the one after that.

Regardless, it was different.

They were back in the conference room for lunch, though there wasn’t much they had to do. Everything was ready. Their only job now was to decorate the venue, but they couldn’t do that until the day before. Kestrel and Arin had been approved to work for a half day so they could leave early to get started.

They’d reverted back to working in silence. She felt his eyes on her, just as she knew he felt her eyes on him. He leaned close to the edge of his seat, closest to her. She leaned close to edge of her seat, closest to him.

Until she caught herself. Righted herself. Buried herself into her work, yelling in her mind about how she should’ve just stayed in her office because there was no reason for her to take her lunch in the conference room anymore. In fact, there was no reason for her and Arin to be in each other’s space until the day before the party, and maybe at the party, but that was it. They wouldn’t have any other reason to be in contact with each other after that.

Somehow she hated the very thought. She’d gotten used to being around him in the three short weeks they’d had to work together. She didn’t find that disgusting anymore. But the fact that she didn’t definitely disgusted her.

“Kest—”

Whatever Arin was about to say died on his tongue when the door flew open. Their coworker, Roshar, glided in as if he were walking a runway. His brows rose and the semi-closeness between Arin and Kestrel, and he smirked at whatever he saw. Kestrel thought she heard Arin curse under his breath. He sank into the seat opposite to Arin, so he sat in front of him.

Judging by the look on Arin’s face, Kestrel guessed it was more to preserve his life.

“Well, well, well. I’m surprised you two haven’t murdered each other just yet.” He paused, turning his attention to Kestrel with pursed lips. “Well, at least I’m surprised Little Ghost here hasn’t murdered you yet, Arin.”

Kestrel had seen Arin interact with his friends before, but seeing them from afar and actually witnessing an interaction were two different things. She immediately knew that Arin’s relationship with Roshar was different than his relationship with Verex. Or Lirah, the receptionist. It ran much deeper than the other two, but that also meant that they spoke differently when in private and when in front of others.

She saw it in the way Arin had tensed when Roshar entered the room. When his jaw clenched at the accusation of her committing his murder. The way Roshar’s eyes glittered with mischief, and his lips curled devilishly.

He was up to something and Arin didn’t like it.

“So.” Roshar clapped twice, demanding attention he already had, and crossed his legs, folding his hands over his knee. “How is our little shindig coming along?”

“Great,” Arin answered curtly. It was a dismissal and they all knew it. Roshar let it roll off his shoulders with a grin.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you got the same caterers from last year.”

“No.” Another dismissal that went over Roshar’s head.

“And who do we have for music?”

At this, Arin froze. His eyes narrowed at his friend. When Kestrel turned her attention to Roshar, she thought his head might split apart from how wide his grin was. His body trembled lightly with restrained laughter.

“Someone we found online,” Kestrel answered in place of Arin. “We saw her play over the weekend.”

Roshar tilted his head at her with a raised, but knowing brow. He widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Did you?”

His tone told her that somehow, for whatever reason, Roshar already knew about that. And she got the feeling that Roshar knew about several things that she didn’t.

“Hm,” Roshar hummed, thoughtfully. “Why hire someone when you could’ve just had—”

A throaty noise that sounded an awful lot like a growl came from Arin’s side of the room, but when Kestrel turned her gaze toward Arin whatever had been there, whatever he’d done was gone. Roshar howled with laughter.

“Well then. I think I’ll just leave you two alone since Mr. McBroody seems to be very busy.” He shrugged. “At least, hopefully he will be soon.”

Roshar jumped from his seat, rushing out of the door just as a pen hit his chair.

Kestrel blinked at Arin, who ran his hands in his hair and scrubbed his face in frustration. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, already turning to his work. “Don’t pay attention to him. He’s an idiot.”

But the tension that riddled his voice told her otherwise.

Day 19: 1 Day until the Company Christmas Party

Since Kestrel and Arin had been given a half day off to decorate the venue, she’d taken more comfortable clothes with her and changed in her private bathroom at work. She didn’t know how long they would take. Though she imagined not long at all since the venue was already partially decorated—they were just adding their own touch—she was sure that she’d get home too tired to do much else.

She’d agreed to go with Arin in his car since he had all the decorations, and they’d moved the raffle gifts from hers to his. Later, when they finished, he’d drive her back to the company to pick up her car. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of being alone with him in an enclosed space. In an enclosed space that _belonged_ to him. She couldn’t tell the difference between her feelings of hate and her feelings of… something—attraction?—for him anymore, and she’d stopped trying to figure it out.

It was just a car ride. To go do some more work. Like they did last weekend. Only there wouldn’t be any dancing. (Which she wasn’t upset about.) And there wouldn’t be any hand holding. (Which she _most definitely_ wasn’t upset about.) And there wouldn’t be any exchanges of _I don’t hate you_. (Which she was completely, without a doubt, one-hundred percent _not_ upset about.)

Kestrel wiped her clammy palms on her pants. Her eyes scanned the lobby in search of the tall, only slightly broody Herrani that had taken her every emotion, her very sanity, from the moment she laid eyes on him, but he still hadn’t come down from his office.

She tapped away on her phone, pretending to be busy despite every single one of her senses twitching in anticipation of his arrival.

Her thumb froze mid tap.

She hadn’t seen him in person today, they’d only texted. She _missed_ him.

She wondered when she went from wanting to see him so she could imagine which part of his face she’d claw off to missing him simply because she missed him. Because she liked being around him She liked talking to him.

She liked his very intact face.

Oh. _Ew_. Wow.

A strangled choke broke her reverie. When she looked up Arin stood in front of her, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared. His face turned red. His gaze tracked her head to toe. She frowned, looking down at herself. She didn’t find anything on her crop top and sweats. Arin exhaled, rubbing his eyes roughly while he turned his back to her to face Roshar, who’d been standing behind him with raised brows.

He muttered something to his best friend, who immediately broke out into laughter. Arin shook his head, letting out another breath and swiveled toward the door without another glance at her.

“Let’s go.”

He didn’t even wait to see if she was following him before he walked away.

_Entitled ass._

As Kestrel pulled on her coat, scarf, and hat with a huff, she grumbled, “What’s his problem?”

Roshar was still staring after Arin. Small, garbled chuckles escaped him. He wiped at his eyes. “I have no clue.” He sobered up, turning his attention to her. He eyed her for a moment, and then he smiled.

She grimaced in return, moving to follow Arin.

“Your ass looks great in those sweats!” Roshar yelled out loud. People turned to stare at them. Her face heated.

“Remember to wrap the presents!”

It was an innocent enough remark, but his tone was laced with suggestion. She heard the chuckles of several people. Arin had been right. Roshar _was_ an idiot. She wouldn’t give him the time of day.

She had found a new person to hate.

Day 20: The Company Christmas Party

Kestrel stared at herself in her full length mirror, soothing out the wrinkles in her dress carefully. Wiping the sweat from her palms was more like it, though she saw no difference in the two actions right then.

She’d sent a picture to her friend Risha to ask if she looked all right to which she’d received two thumb up emojis, but she still debated with herself on whether or not she should change.

On the one hand, the dress was the most beautiful thing she’d ever owned. It was winter personified into an inanimate object, but so much of the focus was on the color. The color that almost exactly matched Arin’s eyes. She was sure that side from herself, the only other person that would pick up on it was Arin. And maybe Roshar too, since he seemed to have a keen eye for observation.

She didn’t want either of them, or anyone else for that matter, think that she was somehow claiming Arin for herself through her wardrobe. She didn’t even know if she _wanted_ to claim Arin at all.

She knew that it was only weeks ago that she hated his very being. It would take every ounce of her strength to remain professional around him and their colleagues when what she wanted to do was shove him in a box and send him as far away as she could. She knew that it was only weeks ago that he made her physically ill. Her stomach had always turned. Her lungs felt like they would collapse in his presence from how she held her breath to keep from throwing insults at him. It was only weeks ago that she would’ve chosen death than exist in the same world that he did.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her feelings for him now weren’t any different.

She didn’t want to send him away, no, but she did hate him being away. She grown to hate not seeing his face or speaking to him at least once a day. Her stomach did still turn, and her lungs did still collapse, but because she was always so nervous around him, and she had to restrain herself from saying things that maybe he didn’t think.

And she didn’t even want to think about a world where Arin didn’t exist.

Instead, she thought about how on the car ride to the venue, though they’d been comfortably silent with each other, Arin tapped nervously on the steering wheel. He’d glance at her, and his face would turn pink or he’d lick his lips as if he were preparing to speak to her, but then decided to drop it. Once, she caught him looking at her sweat covered legs, fidgeting just a little in his seat before he opened a window to let the cold air in, claiming that it was too hot in the car, but not bothering to turn the heat down.

His weird behavior didn’t change when they’d arrived. It worsened because he always seemed to look at something other than her. And he’d made sure to keep at least an arm’s length of space between them.

It was almost like the night at the club had never happened. She was back to being a disease in his life, just like that. And she hadn’t even done anything.

At least he hadn’t given her the silent treatment, but their conversation hadn’t flowed as well as it had at the restaurant. There always seemed to be something Arin wanted to say to her, but couldn’t bring himself to say, and an awkward silence would follow until something else came up that had him speaking again.

Then there was the bit where she’d tripped on a cord for the lights and he’d caught her with a gasp. She could still feel his fingers on her lower belly, her waist, the way they tickled just above the hem of her pants as he pulled away.

Screw it. She was wearing the dress and the mask.

Let Arin think what he wanted because she knew what _she_ wanted.

*

Maybe she didn’t know what she wanted. And she wasn’t avoiding Arin, that was almost impossible. It was a private party for a relatively small company. Everyone knew everyone. The place was large enough that everyone could be seen from all angles unless they went to the enclosed botanic garden. And even with everyone having masks on, she knew exactly who was who, and the exact moment Arin had walked in the room.

Kestrel could tell by his gait. And his hair. And the structure of his face. And the way his clothes fit to his body, similar to the way they did the night they went out.

She’d ran into the botanic garden before she caught his attention. She just needed a quick breather, and then she’d go back in and…

She didn’t know.

What did one even say to their former enemy turned crush? _Hi, I hated you so much I almost gouged my own eyes out so I wouldn’t have to look at you, but that’s the past. Mostly, because I think I still sometimes hate you. I can’t tell the difference anymore. Will you go out with me?_

And who was she to think that Arin was even interested in her anyway? _I don’t hate you._ What did that mean? Did he not hate her and saw her as a friend? Did he not hate her and want to kiss her breathless, the way she did to see if he tasted like the honey he always smelled like?

Things were a lot easier when Kestrel knew where Arin had stood in her life, and that was far, far away from her.

“Little Fists.”

Kestrel squealed, clutching at her chest to keep her heart from leaping out of it. She turned a glare on Arin.

“What the _fuck_ , Arin?”

The bastard had the gall to laugh. “Not so funny when it’s _you_ , right?”

She could forget everything she’d thought for the last five minutes. She hated him. That wouldn’t change. And she doubted anyone would notice if he disappeared under mysterious circumstances.

“Is there a reason why you’re sneaking around like an axe murderer? And how did you even know it was me?”

He laughed again, stepping closer to her. “First of all, I wasn’t sneaking around. It’s not my fault you weren’t being more observant.” He frowned down at her. “Which isn’t like you at all.”

She waved whatever his expression—worry?—meant away. “I was just relaxing a little bit. These last few weeks have been… hectic.” To say the least. She was drained from her roller coaster of emotions regarding him.

He nodded in agreement, but said nothing, letting silence fall over them. She could feel his eyes roving over her, pausing on her dress. He looked up at her mask, and then back down to her dress. He caught it.

His brows crinkled, and he blinked as if that would somehow change what he was seeing. When he understood that he wasn’t just imagining things, his eyes widened a little.

“Second of all,” he said softly, stepping closer to her. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “I know you, Kestrel. I’d know you anywhere.”

Was she breathing? She wasn’t breathing. Did she need to breathe anyway? No, no she didn’t think so. Not when Arin reached for, snaking his arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. Not when he reached for her hand to hold, not when he nuzzled his nose into her hair, and not when he started swaying them side to side. Not when they were so close together she could breathe _him_ in.

“Kestrel, why do you hate me?”

She’d known he was bound to ask after she’d asked him. Maybe that was why he’d hesitated with his words the previous day. He wanted to know, but he didn’t want her answer to be something that he couldn’t change.

“You one-upped me,” she mumbled against his chest. “I’d waited for a year to get my job, and then, two years later, you came in and showed me up.”

She felt his chest rumble, and shortly after felt the breath of a chuckle on her head. “Is that all? And here I was thinking I murdered your grandma.”

She squeezed his hand as hard as she could. He squeezed back, rubbing her birthmark.

“No one ever uses my ideas anymore because of you.”

Arin pulled away from her, but she wished he hadn’t. She didn’t like the smug look on his face, or the way his lips twitched with amusement. She was all right with it now, because at least she still had her job, but that didn’t mean she had to feel good about Arin finding her silly for what seemed like a small thing.

“Kestrel, have you ever looked at the finished projects?”

She scowled at him. “Of course I have.”

“Closely?” he asked with a raised brow.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “How closely am I supposed to look?”

Arin stared at her as if she’d grown another head. He took her face in his hands, smooshing her face until her lips puckered. “Well, if you _had_ looked closely, then you would’ve seen that your ideas are there and that your name is in the credits along with mine.”

Before she could shake his grip from her, his lips were on hers and she swore her kneecaps busted.

All rational thoughts flew out of her head, leaving only her need to keep kissing him within her. They both groaned softly when his tongue slipped into her mouth, and her hands found his hair that she’d wanted to touch since the night they’d danced—or maybe before then—and his hand lifted her a bit so he could kiss her more comfortably.

Too soon, he was pulling away with a sigh. He pressed his forehead against hers and uttered the same Herrani word that she’d heard twice from him now.

“What does that mean?”

Arin smiled shyly, his cheeks tinting. “It’s not something that can be translated easily because it can mean multiple things depending on who it’s said to, but I guess the best definition would be…” He kissed her lightly. “Something like… my soul is yours.”

Kestrel pulled him in for another kiss.

_Bonus #1_

Arin lifted her hand to his mouth to press kisses to her knuckles as he walked her to her car. Her heart was swollen with adoration, but something kept prickling at the back of her mind.

“Arin?”

“Yes, love?”

Kestrel shuddered at the pet name. “What did you tell Roshar yesterday? That made him laugh?”

“Ah.” Arin scratched the back of his neck, nervously. “I said you would be the death of me.”

She stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Arin pulled her to him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Your legs looked nice in those sweats. Your ass did too, but I didn’t notice that until later. And the crop top…”

She kissed him.

_Bonus #2_

When she was thoroughly kissed—though she didn’t think she could _ever_ be thoroughly kissed by Arin—she fished her keys from the clutch she had, pushing Arin away from her so she could get into her car. She’d only manage to unlock the door before Arin was pressing her against it again for another kiss.

“Come” kiss “home” kiss “with me,” she suggested.

She felt his grin on her lips. “Not tonight.”

Kestrel nipped at his jaw. “Please?”

“Not tonight, Little Fists.” Then he paused, and it was enough of one that she pulled away to look up at him in concern. Arin twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “Not physically, at least.”

“What?”

Then Arin began to sing, softly. Only for her. And she’d recognize that warm tenor anywhere.

“It’s you!”

Arin smiled, but he didn’t break his song. A song that she understood to be hers, and hers alone by the lyrics.

“You hid it from me.”

“Technically, I hid it from everyone.” He kissed her forehead.

She frowned, almost pouting. “Except Roshar.”

Because when Arin had opened his mouth, she’d immediately realized that Roshar had been teasing Arin that day in the conference room, giving Kestrel a clue that she didn’t pick up. That Roshar was teasing Arin with his feelings for her period.

“Roshar is…”

“An idiot,” she finished for him.

He threw his head back in laughter, and her chest filled with matching joy. “That, but he’s also my best friend. I couldn’t hide it from him.”

“And we were enemies.”

Arin kissed the corner of her mouth. “Not to me.”

She kissed his chin. “Come home with me.”

“Not tonight.”

“I hate you.”

He snorted. “Liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think it has to be said, but i'm going to say it anyway. 
> 
> 1\. don't drink and drive, even if it is just one or two shots  
> 2\. don't accept drinks from strangers
> 
> also don't ask me what they do because i have no clue lmao


	3. A Little Longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neither kestrel nor arin want to leave their cozy bed.

Kestrel turned her head into her pillow, lifting the blanket over her head as if that would miraculously turn it off the incessant buzzing from the nightstand. The last thing she wanted to do was move from her warm cocoon of blankets and a limbs, but if she didn’t the alarm wouldn’t shut up.

She pulled the cover back down, slowly peeling her eyes open as she reached for her phone. She was only slightly confused as to how she was in bed instead of the couch where she’d fallen asleep, but figured that Arin must’ve woken up in the middle of the night with her snuggled on top of him and moved them to a more comfortable space.

Arin groaned, pulling her back into his chest. He nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck, pressing his lips lightly to her hairline. “Come back. It’s too cold.”

“I have to turn off the alarm.”

He grunted, but he loosened his arm from around her while he pulled the blanket over his head to contain the warmth.

She angled her body diagonally, shifting toward the edge of their king sized bed while keeping the lower half on her body in the warmth as she reached for her phone again. She didn’t contain the annoyed sigh that rushed to her lips. It wasn’t her alarm that had disturbed her warm, blissful sleep. It was Roshar texting the group chat.

Roshar had invited them to spend the holiday with him at his private lodge in the mountains, and for the last two weeks, he’d consistently asked how their packing was going, and double-triple-quadruple checking that they were still going, despite them having said yes millions of times over.

Arin had told her that it was because he wouldn’t be with his family this year with Risha traveling with her boyfriend and his relationship with his older sister being strained. He was lonely, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Their flight was scheduled for that night, the two of them having to leave later than Roshar, who was already at the lodge and waiting for them, because of work. Roshar was reminding them of it, as if they didn’t already know. He was also reminding them not to forget the presents and not to be late to their flight by being too distracted with each other or they wouldn’t make it.

She’d throttle him if she didn’t know that he just wanted them to spend time with him.

She told him that everything would be fine and they had it under control before turning her phone on ‘do not disturb’ and setting it back on the nightstand before scooting back, deeper into her bed. It was only five in the morning—they still had several hours left before they had to leave for the airport. She could afford to sleep in a little.

A little. In about three hours, a crew would be sent to record her and Arin for a Christmas Eve special they’d give the next night, and immediately after that they’d have to leave. So she’d take advantage of this small moment of peace.

Arin’s arms immediately wrapped around her body, tugging at her until her head was beneath the blanket too. She wiggled in them so that she was facing him. Arin rested his head in the crook of her neck, his breath tickling her skin and he pulled one of her legs over him as she turned her cheek into his hair, her arms wrapping around him in return.

“You’re back,” he murmured sleepily. “I missed you.”

She giggled. “I was right there.”

“I missed you,” he repeated, tightening his hold on her.

Kestrel kissed the crown of his head, snuggling closer to him. She lightly scraped her nails on his spine, grinning when his whole body shuddered. “You fell asleep on me last night.”

She’d been practicing her rendition of ‘Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy’ on the piano for the special while Arin lounged on the couch, his attention on the the fire that had roared in the fireplace, occasionally pointing out to Kestrel how she could make the song just a little better while still maintaining the original.

But Arin had fallen asleep, and Kestrel hadn’t noticed until she had finished.

“Sorry.” He kissed her shoulder. Remorsefully, he explained, “It was so relaxing with the fire going and your playing, and I was so tired from working in the studio.”

Arin’s fans didn’t know it yet, but after a two year long hiatus, he was finally recording another album. It was going to be a complete surprise to them—there wouldn’t be any announcements or promo, so he wanted everything to be perfect. And that meant he worked tirelessly day in and day out.

“I’m only teasing,” she chuckled. “Besides, I fell asleep too.”

When Kestrel noticed Arin’s lack of consciousness, how comfortable and warm he looked beneath the throw they kept on the couch, and how the lights of their Christmas tree and the glow of the fire made his skin look celestial, she tampered the fire and then snuggled beneath the blanket on top of him.

She’d meant to only stay like that for a few minutes, but the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the beating of his heart like a song he’d sing in her ear lulled her to sleep.

“I noticed.” She felt his grin on her neck. He brushed his lips on her jaw. “Let’s just stay in bed until we have to leave.”

“The camera crew is coming in a little bit,” she reminded him. “We have to get ready soon.”

Arin hummed his frustration and pulled Kestrel ever closer, his face so stuffed into her neck that she didn’t know how or if he was even breathing. She agreed with how he felt. She was still tired and if they left the bed it would be so cold. She wasn’t ready for that quite yet. Already, she could feel Arin’s breathing slow, even out.

“Okay,” she yawned. Her lids grew heavy. “Just for a little bit longer.”


	4. The Faker's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arin pretends to be roshar's boyfriend for a family christmas dinner, and it goes pretty well despite both arin and roshar not believing it would work... that is... until kestrel shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally can't tell if this is a kestrin fic or a rosharin fic akdns oh well

“Arin, why are you walking like?”

“You told me to be suave.”

“Well, you look like you’re shitting your pants. Just walk normally.”

Arin adjusted himself.

Roshar groaned. “What are you doing _now_?”

“You told me to walk normally, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“You don’t walk like that, Arin.” Roshar pinched the bridge of his nose, plopping himself into Arin’s loveseat with a dramatic sigh. He waved toward Arin. “Enough with that, come sit next to me.”

Arin did as he was told, wondering for the umpteenth time exactly what he’d gotten himself into by agreeing to be Roshar’s fake boyfriend for his family’s Christmas dinner. He supposed he could always back out. There was still time for Roshar to find someone else.

But he’d already agreed, and Arin never backed out on his promises. That, and he had a feeling Roshar had already asked others because as much as he loved to tease him, especially with a little flirting here and there just to see Arin’s reaction, Roshar would’ve never asked him to do it unless Arin was his last hope.

Roshar wouldn’t want to admit that he was either embarrassed by his family, or that he wanted to keep Arin to himself. Something untainted by his family.

Roshar put his arm around Arin’s shoulder, pulling him flush against his body. He guided Arin’s head to his shoulder, slipping his free hand into Arin’s. They sat awkwardly like that for a few minutes until Roshar pushed him away with a scoff.

“Could you please pretend like you’re even a little bit in love with me? For fuck’s sake, you were stiffer than my cock was last night.”

Arin snickered. “Maybe if I were given a warning and you didn’t smell like you’ve been rolling around with skunks.”

“It’s the weed from the party last night. I invited you. You should’ve come. Maybe then you’d learn how to relax.”

“If you’re so good at this, then why aren’t _you_ the one snuggling up to me?”

“Arin, please, I top _always_ ,” Roshar said coolly, his voice dipping in suggestion. “Would you care to find out?”

“Not today,” Arin replied just as coolly. “The dinner is tomorrow and I need to be able to actually walk through the door.”

Roshar laughed. “You’re finally getting it. Now, let’s do it again. And _this_ time just act natural. Be yourself.”

Arin rolled his eyes. “I thought you wanted me to act like someone you would believably date.”

Roshar wrapped his arm around Arin’s shoulder again. “That was before I knew what a terrible actor you were. Just be yourself, we’ll make it work.”

Arin nodded, willingly leaning into Roshar, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Better. Now let’s practice our kissing.”

Arin slapped him with a pillow.

*

Arin stared at the massive, ornately decorated mansion before him, taking in the lights and tufts of garland with poinsettias stuck in them that wound around the roof and windows. He wondered if Roshar’s driver had the right address and hadn’t just abandoned Arin at some stranger’s house. He would’ve believed that he was in the wrong place too, had it not been because Roshar had let him know that he’d sent a driver to pick him up.

Roshar texted, asking if he’d arrived yet, and Arin was tempted to tell him that he couldn’t make it. It wasn’t so much that Arin was nervous about meeting Roshar’s older sister for the first time, or about being around Roshar’s younger sister, Risha, for longer than the five minutes they normally interacted—about as much time as Roshar and Risha spent with each other.

It was about not wanting to embarrass his friend. He didn’t want to let Roshar down. But backing out _was_ letting Roshar down, and Arin refused to do that, even if it meant shoving his nerves down to the deepest, darkest recesses of him mind, where he kept the other things he didn’t want to think about.

 _I’m here_ , he texted back, but still made no move to climb the imperial staircase to the front door.

Roshar poked his head out from the front door, frowning when he saw that Arin was still at the bottom of the stairs.

“What are you doing? Come on.”

Slowly, he climbed the stairs, careful not to disturb the Christmas lights that swirled around the railings, eyeing his friend closely. He knew Roshar, and the man that waited for him at the front door was most definitely _not_ the Roshar that Arin loved. Roshar had always been closed off and guarded, but he was even more so now. His face was sharp, his jaw clenched and tense like the rest of his body.

When Arin reached the top of the stairs, he immediately pulled Roshar into a hug. Surprisingly, his friend let him hold him. “Are you okay?”

“Okay? You think I’m just okay? I’m the greatest specimen to roam the earth, Arin. My beauty is unparalleled. I’m more than just okay.”

It wasn’t what Arin meant, but he wouldn’t push him. Roshar would open up to him on his own time. He always did.

He pulled away, tapping three fingers to the back of Roshar’s hand. He pressed his forehead against his friend’s.

“It’s just for one night,” he reminded Roshar.

Roshar blinked. Then he shut his eyes and nodded, pulling himself together before lacing his hand with Arin’s and tugging him toward the door with what would’ve been the brightest smile Arin had ever seen, if he hadn’t noticed the tic in Roshar’s cheeks.

He squeezed Roshar’s hand reassuringly. Roshar squeezed back.

“Let’s go reign over this peasant’s dinner like the royalty we are,” Roshar said begrudgingly as he shut the door behind Arin.

*

Only two hours—no. Arin checked the time. Twenty minutes. Only twenty minutes had passed, and Inisha, Roshar’s older sister, had made five biting comments about Roshar’s career of choice _and_ his relationship with Arin.

She poked fun about Roshar finally taking his love life seriously. She asked when and _if_ they were getting married because Roshar was _so fickle_ , as she put it. That he never took anything seriously, and that Arin probably shouldn’t stick around for long because he’d end up getting his heart broken. She made fun of Roshar’s latest photoshoot, and wondered about what he would do when he was too old to model because Roshar hadn’t gone to college, so he had nothing to fall back on.

All of that topped with how Inisha eyed Arin like he was a steak and she hadn’t had anything to eat in a week, he could see why Roshar had kept him from meeting her.

He’d nearly grabbed Roshar’s hand and left the house to take him away from her, but Roshar would pat his hand or squeeze it to keep him from actually doing it. Roshar would see the dinner through. He would show her that he was more than what she thought of him.

As horrible as it was, at least Roshar wasn’t her only target. Risha, and her boyfriend Verex, were also targeted by Inisha. He’d catch Roshar and Risha exchanging looks of understanding and something else that Arin couldn’t read.

He knew that Roshar and Risha didn’t have the best relationship. It was better than the one either of them had with their older sister, sure, but it was still lacking.

The doorbell rang, and Arin noticed how Risha, Verex, and even Roshar visibly relaxed.

Verex sprang up to get the door.

“I don’t remember inviting anyone else over,” Inisha said, trying to mask her curiosity with boredom.

“Verex and I did,” Risha replied. “Remember? I told you Kestrel would be joining us because her father is out of the country, and her friends are with their family.”

“Oh. Right.”

Arin glanced sidelong at Roshar to see him bringing a hand to his face to hid the twitch of his lips.

He leaned toward him to whisper in his ear, “I take it your sister doesn’t like Risha’s friend?”

Roshar shook his head, faking a cough to hide his laughter.

The night had taken a turn for the better, it seemed. At the very least, it would be fun, Arin thought.

Until Kestrel, the hated guest, walked in.

She stole his breath from his chest. He swore that—with her golden hair and eyes so light brown they looked almost like gold—he was looking into the sun.

Roshar pinched his side, grabbing his attention. He watched him with wide, knowing eyes.

_Shit._

Everything was going to go to shit.

*

Arin didn’t feel much like eating. The butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t let him. Not while Kestrel was sitting in front of him, casting glances his way and occasionally asking him questions about himself.

It was understandable, given that they were the only two in the mansion that didn’t previously know each other. Arin would’ve liked to think that it was because she felt some sort of attraction for him, the way that he did for her, but of course… he was Roshar’s boyfriend for the night—or to her knowledge, forever.

As the night went on, Arin was finding it more and more difficult to keep his attention away from Kestrel. He was a moth, and she was the flame. It didn’t help that she also kept her attention on him, curious by him., so Arin did everything he could to keep his focus on Roshar, his fake _boyfriend_.

He’d shifted in his seat, so that his body was angled toward Roshar instead of Kestrel. He held Roshar’s hand throughout the dinner and dessert. Whenever he got the urge to look at Kestrel when they weren’t speaking, he’d cast his gaze toward Roshar instead.

It got to the point that Roshar cut him a glare, and leaned in to him telling him to whisper at him that _despite telling you to act like you’re so madly in love with me that it would be apparent you’d go crazy without me, you’re being annoying. I know it’s hard right now,_ he’d chuckled lightly at his unintended innuendo, _but keep your dick in check._

But what else was he supposed to do?

If he paid too much attention to Roshar, he risked them being caught in their lie and having Roshar humiliated and berated by his older sister. If he paid too much attention to Kestrel, he risked them being caught in their lie and having Roshar humiliated and berated by his older sister. There was no way he could win.

That was how he found himself hiding away in the kitchen after the caterers had gone. He needed a well deserved breather.

It had started snowing, and it was bad enough that they’d have to stay the night instead of being able to go home. It only made it harder for Arin, who would have to pretend for longer than originally planned. He had to share a room with Roshar, who ragged on him for almost giving them away while he drooled whenever Kestrel breathed. Or that was how Roshar put it.

Arin definitely didn’t drool.

He sat on stool at the island, nibbling at leftover dessert and sipping on the wine they’d had over dinner. He only had a few more hours until he and Roshar went back home, and this would be all over.

Maybe he’d find Kestrel on social media—if she had any. He’d tell her that he and Roshar broke up, and that he was interested in getting to know her.

But he knew that he wouldn’t. It would be too weird. And it would insinuate that he’d been attracted to her while he “was with Roshar” and would make him out to be a cheater.

Arin sighed, crossing his arms on the island, and resting his chin on his arms. He shut his eyes. It would be that he’d find the girl of his dreams while he was pretending to be someone else’s partner.

“Oh—!”

Arin jolted, nearly falling from his seat.

Kestrel stood in the doorway, her face slightly flushed whether from surprise or embarrassment, Arin didn’t know. Not that he was thinking of anything else other than how cute she looked with slight pink cheeks and pajamas that fit her a little big because they were probably Risha’s.

“I didn’t know anyone was awake.”

Arin shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Kestrel nodded, perhaps in understanding. She shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water before joining him at the island. Arin tried very hard not to study and memorize the planes of her face by keeping his eyes on the island, or the walls, or the kitchen’s appliances that held her reflection in them.

 _Shit_.

This was no good. He was going to say or do something that would give him away.

“How long have you and Roshar been together?” she asked.

What was it that Roshar had said to say when they were asked that question? Arin had lost all track of his thoughts the moment she set foot in the room.

“Uhh.. It’s only been a few weeks.”

Kestrel thought over his answer, and his heart leapt into his throat. Had he said the wrong thing? Had Roshar said something over dinner and Arin was too distracted by her to remember? It took him a couple moments to realize that Kestrel wasn’t thinking about his answer, and that he was safe from being discovered. She was studying him, sizing him up.

His deductions were only confirmed when she said, “Roshar… isn’t exactly the type to maintain a long relationship, but I can tell he really cares about you. He can be a handful sometimes, but that’s because he’s hiding his feelings from everyone, including himself.” She paused to shift nervously in her seat, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Part of him was hurt that her interest in him seemed to be because she was only making sure that he was the right fit for Roshar, that he wouldn’t hurt him. But the other part of him found it adorable that she thought that Arin didn’t know that about Roshar. He didn’t even attempt to stop her in her attempt to threaten Arin from breaking Roshar’s heart.

“I guess… I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

Arin raised an inquisitive brow. “How do you know _he_ won’t be the one breaking _my_ heart?”

Kestrel grinned, and it was like she’d punched him in the face. “That’s very true.”

Arin stared stupidly at her, hoping to every god in existence that Roshar wasn’t right about him drooling. Before he could blink, Kestrel was standing, ready to head back to her room.

“Wait,” Arin said before he could stop himself. He was being stupid, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask about her at dinner. And it could be as nothing more than just friends. There really was nothing wrong with that. Right?

“How did you meet him?”

She sat back down, almost tentatively. She studied him again before telling him that she only knew Roshar because of Risha, and she only knew Risha because of Verex. So, he’d asked about Verex because he didn’t know him well, only through the rare times he was with Risha and they were together with Roshar. Kestrel explained that Verex was a childhood friend of hers, that their fathers were best friends.

“What do you do?”

Kestrel shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I play the piano in the Jadis Theatre’s Orchestra. It’s not always a full-time thing, so it isn’t much of a reliable source of income. That’s why I also work for a music studio.”

She liked music. Like he did. He couldn’t decide if he was thrilled to hear it—he could just imagine her fingers dancing across the black and white keys, following along or even leading his voice in a lovely duet—or if it was gutting to hear because, while she may cautiously be humoring him with his inquisition of her, he didn’t think she’d ever be alone with him again.

He knew because she was avoiding looking at him. She’d angled her body away from him to face the fridge, much like he had done at dinner to her. She’d take sips of her water bottle and set it down, only to do it over again two minutes later.

Arin was making her uncomfortable. That, or she was tired and didn’t know how to say goodnight, but Arin was inclined to believe that it was the former.

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I’m keeping you awake.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s… fine?”

She frowned, her brows furrowing. Whatever she’d been thinking had her shaking her head again. Her resolve strong. She stood from the stool, turning her closed off gaze to him.

“Actually, I think… I think it would be best if we didn’t—if we weren’t friends, Arin.”

He wanted to ask why, but he had a feeling he already knew. He’d picked up on her perceptiveness, and no doubt she was suspicious of his interest in her even if it was strictly platonic. She probably thought the worst of him now. It would explain why she’d adopted his methods of trying to avoid her presence.

Kestrel was… disgusted by him.

And if she wasn’t, she didn’t need to be. Arin was disgusted by himself. He was supposed to be acting as his best friend’s boyfriend, not wanting to know about the life story of a girl he’d just met. A girl who smelled like citrus and a little bit like freshly chopped wood. A girl who had the prettiest, clearest seeing eyes he’d ever laid eyes on. A girl who had a tiny star shaped birthmark on her hand, near her wrist.

He wasn’t supposed to be heartbroken over the loss of a potential friendship, relationship—whatever.

She frowned at him. He dropped his eyes, and when that wasn’t enough to take the prickle of her attention on him, he took his wine glass and empty plate of sweets to the sink, where he washed them slowly. She’d caught him. He knew it deep in his gut, and he didn’t know if she would say something to Roshar or to his sisters.

“You have a boyfriend,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her. It made him wonder if she’d said it to remind him of that or if she’d said it for her sake.

The truth was on the tip of his tongue. _No, I don’t. It’s a lie._ But he didn’t know how she would handle that, so instead he said, almost as softly as she’d spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Arin played with the water, pretending to wash dishes until the sounds of her feet padding on the floor faded before going back to the room he shared with Roshar.

His friend was awake, browsing through his phone when Arin walked in. He took one look at him and pulled the blanket aside, patting the mattress.

“Come on, lovesick fool.”

Arin climbed in, and Roshar held him to his chest through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of things before you go, i know i said this would be a 25 fic anthology buuuuuuut
> 
> 1) i've been writing semi-long fics which i didn't expect and takes up more time than i want it to and  
> 2) some (and by some i mean a lot) of the prompts i chose to be part of this, i wasn't really feeling anymore so i decided to nix them thus shortening it to 12 fics instead.
> 
> also, i'm not 100% happy with how this particular fic came out because it's not exactly how i saw it in my head and i'd rewrite it, but i still have more fics to write, so i won't have time. regardless, i hope you still enjoy it 😣😣
> 
> and lastly, don't hate me for the ending akdjfsa i promise i have things planned for this fic in particular. it just won't come out until after the holidays. i'msorrydon'thatemeiloveyou 😫😫


	5. Preheated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kestrel and arin get a little distracted baking

“Arin,” Kestrel huffed, trying her best to convey her (slight) annoyance, but instead sounding breathy and almost needy. “We’re supposed to be making cookies.”

“We are,” he responded against the column of her neck, pressing his lips to the spot by her ear that he knew made her weak. It earned him a sharp gasp and a moan that replaced the sound of the Christmas music they had playing in the background. His hands crawled from her waist, up to her shoulders, where they trailed down to her hands. He guided their joined hands to pick up a measuring cup and used it to scoop up some flour before dumping it in the bowl set on the island. “See?”

Arin pressed light kisses along the nape of her neck in his switch to the other side of her neck. He continued to guide their hands to gather various ingredients, measure them out and dump them into the bowl.

Kestrel stepped back into him, and he walked them forward so her hips pressed into he edge of the island. She shuddered when he set a hand on her hip to massage it lightly.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And _you_ left me cold and alone very early this morning. I missed you.”

She spun in his arms to level him with a look of annoyance, but Arin only smiled smugly as he smothered her cheeks with kisses. She got the feeling that he’d just gotten something he wanted. His lips trailed toward her lips.

She wouldn’t kiss him.

If she kissed him, she’d want to keep kissing him. And if she kept kissing him, she’d want to get rid of the ache between her legs and help him with the obvious strain in his boxers that did nothing to soothe said ache between her legs.

And if she did that, she’d want to keep doing that until it was time for them to leave for Sarsine’s party, and they wouldn’t have made any of the cookies they’d promised they’d take, and Sarsine would probably know why and would never let them live it down.

So, just as Arin’s lips reached the corner of hers, she turned her face and pushed him away.

“Arin, we said we’d take them. You know what Sarsine will say if we don’t have them.”

Arin’s grin turned to a grimace. “You’re right. It doesn’t help that she already thinks we’re going to ruin them.”

“See?”

He glowered at her, clearly not thinking she was funny. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

She giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, dodging him when he turned his head for a kiss on the lips. “Later, later. We’re busy right now.”

Arin grumbled on his way out.

*

“Wait, Kestrel, don’t—”

He was too late.

Kestrel rose her brows at him in question.

“We were supposed to cream the eggs and the sugar together,” Arin sighed.

“But it’s all going to be mixed together anyway.” Kestrel shrugged. “What difference does it make?”

“The texture, I think.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kestrel said, brushing him off as she continued adding the rest of the ingredients to the bowl.

Working side by side, she passed the bowl to him so he could mix them up while she grabbed one of the bowls they’d washed and dried to make a different batch of cookies. They’d already made batches of chocolate chip, red velvet, white chip chocolate, and gingerbread cookies.

Batches that promptly went in the garbage because they came out too hard or burnt. So now they were trying their hand at sugar cookies that they’d shaped to look like gingerbread people and snowflakes thanks to cookie cutters.

“You followed the instructions for the other cookies, why not for these?”

“Because I’m tired,” she said simply.

Arin couldn’t disagree. They’d been at it for hours, gathering ingredients and mixing up different kinds of cookies. It was getting to the point where Arin wasn’t going to want to see another one for the next decade.

And anyway, they would have to wait for the cookies to cool off before they decorated them with icing and then allow _that_ to set before they had to move them into the containers to carry them to Sarsine’s. It would take time, and time wasn’t something they really had much left of. They still needed to get ready…

Arin set the mixed dough aside, grabbing the second bowl Kestrel passed to him to mix them up. She was already getting started on the third batch. Though each batch made twenty-four cookies, Arin still didn’t think they’d have enough for the party.

“Why don’t we just buy them?”

“She’s going to know.”

“Not if we put them in the containers for these.”

Kestrel pursed her lips in thoughts, but then shook her head. “No, it’s better if we make them. Even if we did try to pass them as our own, they’ll _taste_ store bought. I’d rather have people think our cookies are bad—”

“They _are_ bad,” Arin snickered. He turned the mixer off as she bumped her hip with his.

“Than have her and Roshar ridicule us for the rest of our lives for the time we tried to pass store bought cookies as ours,” she finished.

Arin set the second bowl aside as Kestrel handed him the third and final one. She cleared the area in front of her, set a cookie sheet beside her work area, and reached for one of the ready doughs Arin had put to the side. She dusted the island with flower before setting the dough on top to be rolled out.

“We might not have enough, though,” he pointed out.

Kestrel shrugged. “We should be fine. I think Verex said he was bringing cake. And Sarsine may have mentioned something about honeyed half-moons.”

Arin set the last bowl aside. He mimicked Kestrel’s earlier actions, after putting away the electric mixer, readying his section of the island to help her roll out and cut the cookies. Neither of them said much while they were concentrating on their cookie cutting.

But occasionally, Kestrel’s arm would _accidentally_ brush against his. Or she’d reach for a cookie cutter she “needed”, pressing her chest firmly to whatever spot on his body it touched.

Soon enough, they were putting the cookies in the oven. With a sly smile, Kestrel gathered the dishes to clean up, but Arin nabbed them from her hands and set them back on the counter. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. She squeaked when he jerked his hips into her, a healthy flush covering her cheeks.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Little Fists?”

“Cleaning up,” she said with an innocent enough smile and a bat of her eyelashes. “What did you think I was doing?”

“We can do that later.”

Kestrel drew patterns into his skin, her eyes roaming over his shirtless body. She pressed a light kiss to his chest that made his heart flutter. “There are plenty things we could do later.”

“Yes, but not this.”

She hummed with pleasure when one of his hands kneaded the back of her neck. “Not what?”

“Dancing.”

“ _Dancing?_ ”

Arin twirled her, guiding her around the island before allowing her to fall into his arms, where he swept her into a slightly awkward waltz to Winter Wonderland.

“This isn’t… exactly what I was thinking, Arin,” Kestrel mused sheepishly.

“Little Minx,” he teased, kissing her forehead as he danced them around the island.

“You started it.”

“ _You_ started it by being so beautiful.”

Kestrel grinned, and Arin leaned in to steal it with a kiss, but she turned her head away from him again. He placed it on her jaw, taking in the scent of sugar that stuck to her skin.

“You won’t kiss me.”

“Because I don’t trust myself to stop.”

It was Arin’s turn to grin. He nipped at her ear, earning him the same gasp and moan from earlier. “I don’t think I trust you much, either.”

She scoffed, “ _You_ don’t trust _me?_ I’ll show you _._ ”

She brought them to a halt, clasping his face in her hands and crashing her lips to his. A small, guttural, almost animalistic groan spilled from her lips when his tongue touched them and she welcome him into her mouth. Their hands found each other’s bodies in unison: Kestrel squeezing his biceps, trailing her nails along the lines of his body and settling on of her hands in his hair, and Arin’s gripped her thighs, pulling her up to settle her on a stool to kiss her deeper, better.

Kestrel moaned her approval, wrapping her legs around him to bring him closer. Her head shot back when their hips met, another moan ripping from her throat. Arin redirected his lips to her neck, pulling part of her shirt—that used to belong to him—to the side with his teeth to expose more of her skin for his lips.

She ground her hips into him, her movements becoming more frantic with each passing second. The sugary sweet scent that clung to her gave way to the scent of flame.

“Arin,” Kestrel huffed. His hands slipped beneath her chest, following her body up to her breasts, his mouth met the tops of them, tongue lapping at her flesh and following up with kisses and nips and sucks. She arched into him for more.

Then she gasped, freezing in his arms. “Arin, Arin, wait. The cook—”

The smoke detectors went off, the equivalent of dumping more than one bucket of cold water on him. Kestrel leaped away from him, bounding for the oven while Arin opened a few windows to help the smell escape.

When he turned back to her, she was frowning at the trays set on the stove. Over half the cookies were completely burned, simple piles of black crumbs. The ones that weren’t were still burned on the bottom, and probably hard as rocks.

“Store bought?” Kestrel inquired.

“Store bought,” Arin agreed.

*

Sarsine opened the door for them, sparing one look at the store bags in their hands before bursting into laughter and calling for Roshar to give her the fifty bucks he owed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly this is just a better version than the one i previously wrote akjdskl


	6. Operation Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> roshar and the gang are fed up with the impossible duo, so they set out on a mission to bring them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost entirely from roshar's pov 🤩
> 
> it was fun writing kestrin without being in their pov. it was new for me, and i really hope you like it 🙈💕

The First Meeting

Roshar sat in his chair with his legs crossed, like a king on his throne waiting to address his subjects. It wasn’t exact too far off from what he was actually doing.

His gaze roamed his living room cautiously, studying those who occupied the rest of his furniture. His sister, Risha, sat in the love seat, and beside her sat her boyfriend Verex, a childhood friend of Kestrel’s, who Roshar was keeping his eye on.

Verex may have been a little quieter, and shyer than the rest of the group, but he had the potential to hurt _two_ of the people he cared about. And, as the saying went, it was always the quiet ones you had to look out for. If he slipped up, Roshar would be there to make him regret it.

To round them out, Sarsine, his best friend’s cousin, sat in the matching chair to his across the coffee table.

They were an odd little group that didn’t typically gather without a certain pair in their midst, but this was an emergency. Said pair was driving everyone in the room insane. It was clear that the two were… in _something_. Love, lust, whatever it was, he nearly gagged every time he was in the same room as them, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Kestrel and Arin were two of the smartest people Roshar had ever met, but somehow neither of them could see—or at least acknowledge—their feelings for each other. Theirs was relationship of stolen glances, cryptic conversations that they figured out or misunderstood, casual touches, and many, many almosts.

Enough was enough.

“Alright, friends,” Roshar said with a clap of his hands. “Today marks the first day of our mission to bring two of the biggest idiots in town together. Any suggestions?”

Verex’s hand shot into the air.

“Let’s hear it.”

*

The Sixth (and Final) Meeting

“It’s no use,” Sarsine groaned as she sank into what had become her regular seat at Roshar’s house. “We’ve tried it all, and they _still_ aren’t together. They _still_ don’t get it. I don’t understand. What are we doing wrong?”

Risha took up her spot on the loveseat, but Verex chose to drop onto the couch, stretching his body out. He draped his arm over his eyes. Defeated.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Kestrel at the very least should’ve cracked.”

“Don’t you mean Arin?” Risha piped up.

“No. Kestrel. Arin probably won’t ever believe Kestrel would ever feel something for him.”

Roshar found himself nodding in agreement, though he bristled a little at how much Verex had picked up from Arin despite knowing that he and Arin didn’t hang out often—if at all—on their own. He wasn’t jealous per se, but he didn’t like it.

 _Three_ people now.

His eyes were wide open.

“What else are we going to do?” Sarsine asked.

Three pairs of eyes turned to Roshar, seeking guidance. An unfamiliar dampness settled on his palms. He’d been nervous before, but never _that_ nervous. After all, it was only natural that they’d defer to him since he’d been the one to reach out to them for this matter. And though he rightfully deserved the attention, there was a reason why Roshar’s parents hadn’t left him in charge of the family company.

Roshar was a lot of things—intelligent, charming, beautiful beyond all reason. But he was no leader. And despite his temporary position as commander, he was fresh out of ideas. Their motley group truly had tried everything they could to get Kestrel and Arin together.

Sarsine had sent them on a five hour road trip for a very specific item that could only be found at a very specific store. Turned out the store and the item actually existed, but there was still no change to Arin and Kestrel’s relationship.

Verex, whom Arin had always been wary of, tried out the jealousy tactic, pretending that he and Risha were on the rocks and soon to be on the outs, and Verex was looking for a rebound. Also known as Kestrel. It _did_ get him some display of jealousy on Arin’s part before he’d reigned himself in and acted as if nothing happened. And before Kestrel called him out for lying.

Risha had set them up on a blind date, only for them to discover that their date was each other.

Roshar had simply locked them in a room after shutting off the power because what better way to get them together than to introduce a bed in a dark room?

There had been the accident trick where Arin had been told that Kestrel was hurt when she wasn’t. There had been the flowers sent to Kestrel in Arin’s name. The fake dying wish for them to finally be together that they’d roped Tensen, the closest person to an uncle Sarsine and Arin had, into acting out.

All to no avail. His head hadn’t stopped pounding since their third attempt at getting them together. Roshar was spent, and not in the way that he wanted to be. One day, he was going to make his friends pay for everything they’ve put him through.

“We have the Christmas Eve party tomorrow,” he offered. The other three continued to stare at him, waiting for him to continue though he was hoping someone would take the reins from there. “Secret Santa?”

Risha shook her head. “It’s too much like the flowers that didn’t work.”

“And it’s too late for that,” Sarsine added.

“We could always try the mistletoe,” Verex suggested. “We haven’t tried that yet.”

Sarsine scoffed, “If locking them in a room to fuck didn’t work, then why—”

“No, wait,” Roshar cut in. “It might work.”

Sarsine’s face scrunched in bewilderment.

“The mistletoe prompts bad luck if the rules aren’t followed,” Roshar explained. Slowly, the corners of Sarsine’s mouth lifted. The hopeless tension that had been wrapped around them unraveled. “And you know Arin is superstitious.”

“It could work,” Risha agreed with a grin of her own.

Verex sat up. “Operation Mistletoe commences.”

*

What Roshar needed was the stiffest fucking drink he could get to soothe his headache and rising temper, and a nice, quick fuck to work out the kinks in every other part of his body.

What he got was his two best friends slyly ducking out of the way of any area with a mistletoe before they could be caught under it. It should’ve been impossible for them to do, because they’d been placed at every entrance possible when the Impossible Duo weren’t looking, but a mistletoe had gone missing from one of the entrances into the ballroom that Arin had rented out for the party, so Kestrel and Arin used that entrance to their advantage whenever they needed to go in or out of the room.

And whenever he or any of the others sneakily held one over their heads whenever they were in close vicinity, somehow they’d be knocked down or dragged into dancing with either of them.

Roshar knew they should’ve just hung bunches of mistletoe from the ceiling. He should’ve ignored Risha’s warning of the party turning into a makeout fest. He would’ve taken being forced to kiss someone instead of giving his friends a loophole.

“I give up,” Verex muttered, sidling up next to him. “I’m done.”

Roshar glanced sidelong at his sister’s boyfriend. He also looked like he could use a drink. They’d all been working tirelessly to craft their plans to unite the Impossible Duo, and it showed. And Roshar had been doubly working—planning his friends’ union and keeping hawk eyes on Verex to make sure that the man didn’t hurt his sister or his friends. But Verex hadn’t given Roshar a reason to dislike him.

Not when he looked at Risha like she created heaven and earth. Not when he put so much effort into being Arin’s friend, despite Arin’s own cautiousness of him, simply because he was important to Kestrel, whom he treated as though she was his sister.

“I give up, too,” Roshar conceded, patting Verex on the back.

When he turned his gaze to the room, he caught sight of Risha, smiling softly, gratefully, at him. _Thank you_ , she mouthed to him. He nodded in response. From another corner in the room, he saw Sarsine toss a couple pieces of mistletoe into the fireplace. Verex weaseled over to one entrance, checking over his shoulder to make sure neither Arin or Kestrel were watching, to take down another piece of mistletoe. Risha crossed the room to grab the last piece. Together, they walked over to the fireplace to toss their pieces in.

They met at the bar just outside the ballroom, where they ordered a round of shots, knocking them back before they slipped back into the crowds to enjoy what was left of the party.

*

Kestrel released a blissful sigh of relief as she kicked off her heels. She rolled her ankles, then leaned over, bunching her dress up slightly to massage her legs and feet while also stretching out her aching back. She’d had a feeling she was going to regret wearing such high heels, but they were cute and they matched her dress, so who was she to deny herself?

She wished she’d thought to take a spare pair of shoes with her, though…

It had been a long night of hosting and dodging her friends’ attempts at getting her and Arin under the mistletoe.

“No slacking,” Arin called from across the room, stuffing a plate into the garbage bag in his hand. His voice echoed through the room now that there weren’t bodies and music to fill it. A shudder shot through her spine.

“I’m not slacking,” she retorted. “I was taking off my shoes.”

Arin cut her glance, snickering at her position on the floor. “I’ve got a change of shoes for you in my car. Do you want me to go grab them?”

She should’ve known Arin wouldn’t have forgotten to bring her other shoes. Her heart warmed, and she was sure she was blushing.

“No, it’s fine. We’re leaving in a few anyway.”

Kestrel rolled to her feet, grabbing her own trash bag from beside the spot she’d sat on and resumed with cleaning her side of the ballroom. They could’ve chosen to let the hotel handle the cleanup, or they could’ve hired a cleaning crew to deal with it, but much like how they had chosen to plan the party together—without the outside help they get from their assistants—they’d decided to clean the aftermath of the party together.

Picking up a cup from the ground, Kestrel spotted Arin’s shiny, dress shoes behind her. Slowly, she erected herself, peeking at him over her shoulder. Her body tingled at their proximity, at the heat of his gaze bearing down on her, and she wanted to lean back into him, but she refrained.

“Little Fists,” Arin murmured huskily.

“Arin,” Kestrel exhaled just as huskily with a bat of her eyelashes.

He took a step closer to her. She turned her body to face him properly, taking in the way his suit conformed to his body. The skin of his chest peeking through from where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a little. The way his forearms looked with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

Arin studied her just as hungrily as she studied him. They dropped the garbage bags to the floor. He took another step closer, but she took a step back.

“What happened to no slacking?” she teased.

“We’re not slacking. We’re taking a small break,” Arin said, taking another step forward as she stepped back.

One of her brows rose. “A small break for what?”

Arin stepped and stepped and stepped, backing Kestrel into the wall just beside the now dead fireplace. Trapping her there like prey. Her heart pounded in her throat.

A slow, mischievous grin overtook Arin’s face. He glanced at the spot just above Kestrel. “Oh look, how did that mistletoe get there?”

She looked up. Sure enough, there _was_ a piece of mistletoe hanging above her head. She’d seen the others burn the rest of the pieces earlier that night, so she knew that this remaining piece was the one Arin had swiped when their friends weren’t looking to give them a free space to use without being caught underneath it.

“You sly—”

Kestrel moaned when Arin’s lips crashed onto hers, desperate and hungry. She was in his arms, her legs wrapped around him and his hands gripped her ass, sending a shudder through her body. He pressed her further into the wall, groaning at the press of her breasts on his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him closer and closer.

Their frantic, needy kisses slowed, becoming the soft, sensual kisses that were full of one’s heart and soul.

“Should we,” Kestrel paused, her eyes rolling slightly into the back of her head as Arin directed his kisses to her neck. She brought him back to her lips. “Should we tell them we’ve been together for a year now?”

She felt Arin’s body tremble with laughter. “No, we’ll let them figure it out on their own.”

It _was_ fun watching their friends run around like headless chickens, trying everything they could to get Arin and Kestrel together. And they _would_ figure it out eventually. But for now, Kestrel just wanted to enjoy her time with Arin without everyone else—everyone else being the media that followed Arin to the end of time—butting in.

She kissed Arin once, twice, the lowered her legs to be let down. He frowned, but he let her go. She took his hand to lead him back to the forgotten garbage bags.

“Let’s clean up and get to the room that’s waiting for us upstairs.”

Kestrel had never seen Arin move so fast in her life.


	7. Campsite Follies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arin takes kestrel camping to help her avoid the seasonal depression visiting her father puts her in... only to be hit by an unexpected snowstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the sake of this fic, kestrel and arin are the same age instead of him being a little older than her.

Arin wasn’t going to feel guilty.

Sure, it was his idea to go camping for a couple days, even though it was winter and neither he nor Kestrel had ever been camping before, but until then, the weather for the season hadn’t been what one would’ve thought winter would be.

They were two days away from Christmas, and there hadn’t been a single snowflake—only rain. He’d checked the weather app for a week. He’d checked it in the morning. He even watched the news in case his app was malfunctioning and nowhere in either forecast did they call for snow. It wasn’t even supposed to be that cold.

Yet here they were, caught in a snowstorm that appeared out of nowhere, trapping them in their tent.

Kestrel’s teeth chattered. She shrunk into herself, trying to cover more of her face with the scarf she had wrapped around her neck. Arin scooted closer to her before deciding that it wasn’t enough. He tugged her in between his legs, wrapping his whole body around her like a cocoon. Over them, he had their blanket wrapped around them.

Alright, so he _did_ feel guilty for convincing Kestrel to go camping with him. They were going to die because it was too cold, and it was too bad outside for them to drive back home. They couldn’t even call for help because their phones didn’t have any service with the storm raging. He could handle his own death by frost, but he didn’t think he could lose his best friend that way. He didn’t want to lose her at all, whether it was his fault or not.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” he sputtered to her. “I didn’t k-know it was going to s-s-snow.”

“‘So-kay.”

Another wave of cold hit the tent, nearly taking it with the wind. Kestrel shuddered and she huddled into him even more. He tightened his limbs around her. They couldn’t stay in the tent. It would be blown away, and then they’d be buried alive under who knew how many inches of snow. They could possibly never be found if that happened, and it would be all his fault because he wanted to do something different for Christmas this year, rather than spend it with his cousin and Kestrel spend it with her drunkard father.

She always returned home so tired after visiting him. Arin didn’t want that for her this year, especially when she would’ve had to do it again for New Year’s.

As the wind rattled the tent again, Arin stood, bundling Kestrel with the blanket he’d been shielding them with until only her eyes were visible, and set to gathering their things, paying the most attention to the food and clothes they’d packed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Kestrel said, her voice muffled from the blanket, watching him with a wide, concerned gaze. Though he knew she was trembling from the cold, Arin couldn’t help but think that she trembled with fear at the thought of him leaving her to find help. It’s what he would’ve thought if Kestrel had been the one to start gathering their supplies.

“I thought I saw a cabin or something somewhere nearby on our drive up.” He held out his hand to pull Kestrel from the ground. “We can hide there. It will be safer. And maybe they’ll have a working phone.”

“S-somewhere nearby? That’s n-not promising at all,” she tried to tease, but it felt flat through her clanking teeth.

Arin still laughed anyway, keeping a firm grip on her hand while also trying not to take too much more of her out of her blanket cocoon. He’d love nothing more than to leave her wrapped snugly in the blanket, but he didn’t want to lose her in the storm.

“Stay close.”

“And let’s h-hope we don’t get lost.”

*

They didn’t get lost. They found the cabin—which turned out to be a lakehouse—with little to no obstacles in their relatively short journey. Arin had slipped twice, getting himself more drenched with snow and nearly taking Kestrel with him both times, but she caught herself before she fell.

Despite Kestrel’s grievances about alarms and getting arrested—which Arin corrected to being rescued—the house didn’t have an alarm system set up. But it, thankfully, had running water and a working heating system. Kestrel cranked up the heat while Arin slipped into the bathroom to take a hot shower and change into his dry clothes.

When he came out, Kestrel had shed her bundles of winter wear and opened up a couple cans of soup they’d brought. It also looked like she’d dug around in the pantry for some crackers. They were a little stale, but they made do.

“Whoever lives here didn’t really leave anything behind,” Kestrel informed him when he sat down to eat his portion of food. “There are some beans and cans of tuna in the pantry. There’s also some boxed mac and cheese, but I don’t think it’s still good. Besides, we don’t have any mile to make it.” She paused, stuffing a cracker in her mouth. “Wait, there’s cans of coconut milk in the cupboard.”

Arin’s nose wrinkled. He gulped down his soup. “Coconutty mac and cheese?” He stuck his tongue out in exaggerated disgust. “Blegh.”

Kestrel giggled. “It’s not like we brought a lot of food with us. And we don’t know how long it will be before we can get help.”

“Coconutty mac and cheese it is.”

They finished up their makeshift meal, Arin cleaned up the dishes they’d used so they could reuse them later instead of dirtying more. The house didn’t have wifi set up nor did they have a working phone line. They were just going to have to sit and wait until the storm died down.

*

That Night

Arin had done some snooping around in the rooms upstairs and found a closet full of board games in what appeared to be a kids room. He grabbed a couple and took them downstairs to see if Kestrel wanted to play.

While he was doing that, Kestrel poked around downstairs and found some movies they could watch.

“A quick game of Bite and Sting to see who picks a movie?” Kestrel challenged with a raised brow and the cockiest grin Arin had ever seen on Kestrel’s face. His face heated, forcing him to look away.

Being alone with Kestrel, truly alone with her, was a risk to Arin. He’d had a crush on her since they became friends all those years ago. If anything, he’d say he was in love with her. Though he’d never tell her that. He’d never tell _anyone_ that. He didn’t want to risk their friendship in the event that she didn’t feel the same way about him.

And Arin _didn’t_ think she felt the same way about him. Kestrel didn’t treat him any differently than she treated Roshar, their mutual friend, or even Sarsine, his cousin. Not that he treated her any differently, either. Or at least, he didn’t go out of his way to treat her differently.

So maybe he saved the nicest places to see to go with her. And maybe he liked to surprise her sometimes with the little things he’d catch her looking at whenever they passed by a store, or with tickets to a show or movie. Maybe he did things like taking her camping so she could have a break from her overbearing father during the holidays for once in her life because her pain cut him like taking a knife to the gut.

They were things he would do for anybody… If they asked at least.

“Wipe that look off your face,” he said, picking up the Bite and Sting box from where he’d set the games down on the kitchen table. He shuffled over to the living room and passed the box to Kestrel for her to set up the game. “You know you’re going to lose.”

“We’ll see about that.”

*

She did lose, but Arin picked out a movie he was sure she would’ve picked out if she had won. In her delight, she snuggled against him, covering them with a blanket they’d snatched off one of the beds since Arin had put the one they’d taken with them to wash, along with the rest of their wet clothes.

The next game they played was Needles, and Kestrel won that round. She picked a movie Arin knew he would’ve picked had he won that round. After that, they played four more times, picking different games for each round, but choosing movies that the other would’ve preferred to see over the ones the winner would’ve wanted.

Just as Kestrel’s head had begun to droop against him with fatigue, the power went out.

*

Christmas Eve Morning

At some point during the night, Kestrel had wiggled into Arin’s bed of choice. She’d taken the sheets from her bed with her to spread out over them as extra coverage from the cold. They huddled together beneath the blanket.

“Are we going to freeze to death?” she’d whispered, her voice thick with fear that splintered his heart.

“No,” he’d told her as he’d pressed a reassuring kiss to her forehead. He’d pulled her closer, and snuggled them deeper into their was blanket den.

But he wasn’t so sure about that. When they’d trudged downstairs in the morning, they could see through the sliding glass doors that lead to the back patio that the snow had piled up during the night. Standing by the doors, the snow reached Kestrel’s waist and there was no sign of it letting up anytime soon.

They were going to die because of him. Maybe not because of the cold—they’d bundled themselves up with their winter gear again. And they had all the bedsheets and towels that were in the house in case they needed extra warmth. But they would die of starvation if they didn’t get their phone signal back to call for help.

He should’ve told—

But he did. He did tell someone where they were going. He’d told Sarsine and Roshar about his plans to take Kestrel camping. And there was no doubt that Sarsine wouldn’t have already contacted someone about finding them.

He told Kestrel about it, and she immediately brightened. Arin’s heart fluttered, leaping into his throat and then immediately sank into his stomach. That was all he wanted for her—happiness. But he hadn’t realized how _truly_ afraid she’d been until her tense shoulders loosened with relief at his news.

Arin busied himself with opening a can of beans and another one of their cans of soup for their breakfast so he wouldn’t have to face her. He took his time separating half of both cans into two separate bowls—spooning two to three beans, then two to three noodles and vegetables at a time—trying to prolong it before he had to turn to her. He mixed the bowls slowly, but there was only so much he could do.

Finally, he turned to the island where she sat, sliding her plate over to her. He could feel her eyeing him thoughtfully, but he kept his gaze away from hers. As he sat with his own food, he sighed, ruefully, “Kestrel, I’m sorry.”

He could hear the frown in her voice when she asked, “For what?”

“For getting us into this mess. For getting _you_ into this mess.”

Kestrel was silent for a moment. Long enough that he finally looked up at her. She definitely was frowning at him, but she seemed… sad almost.

“I just wanted you to have one holiday that was about _you_. Not about your dad.”

Before he knew it, Kestrel had rounded the island to wrap her arms around him in the tightest, love filled hug he’d ever received. Even from his deceased parents.

“Thank you.”

It was only two words, but they were full of all the warmth and gratefulness that Kestrel couldn’t put into any other words that Arin felt them all the way in his toes. Arin swiveled in his seat, and Kestrel wedged between his knees to properly hug him. He engulfed her in him.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” she mumbled in his chest. The tips of her ears turned pink. She tightened her hold on him. “I’m not going to say that I’m not afraid—because I am—but I’d rather be here surviving with you than surviving him on my own.”

Arin pressed a kiss to her temple, stroking her back soothingly. He relished in their embrace, but he didn’t allow himself to read into it. She was his best friend. They did this all the time, since they were teenagers.

“We’ll be fine,” he said confidently. “When have we ever not been fine?”

All too soon, she’d stepped away from him. “There was that time you got suspended for when we snuck away from our class field trip to explore that abandoned building that was supposed to be haunted, remember? That you missed your midterm because of it?”

Arin winced. That had been his idea, too. He had almost had to repeat the grade because of it. But that wasn’t what was so bad about it. It had been the first time Kestrel had been truly angry with him. He’d taken the fall for both of them, despite it being something that she’d wanted to do. But he’d managed to convince their chaperones that he’d coerced Kestrel into going with him.

It wasn’t like she’d gotten off scot-free. She’d had in-school suspension. Her father hated him for that. (Well, her father hated him for a lot of things, but that was the first time he put his foot down and tried to ban them from seeing each other.)

She hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks.

It had been the worst fourteen days of his life, topped only by the accident that took his parents and sister from him.

“We weren’t in a life threatening situation then,” Arin argued as she returned to her seat to eat her cold meal. “How does that correlate?”

“We weren’t fine then,” she said into her soup, taking a deliberate bite that Arin knew signaled the end of the conversation.

It wasn’t until they ate their meal, and they’d split up to find candles and flashlights, until Arin was in the basement searching for any sign of a generator that he realized that Kestrel hadn’t been talking about their physical lives not being fine. She’d been talking about _them_.

*

That Night

In an effort to save their camping expedition, Arin moved the coffee table from the living room aside. He moved a mattress from one of the rooms into its place and built a semi-tent that went over half the mattress with the sofa, chairs, blankets, and pillows. While he hadn’t found a generator, he did find a battery operated light projector that projected the night sky on the ceiling and a couple flashlights.

He set up the projector on the coffee table. Beside it, he put his phone to play soundscapes of a woodland night from his downloaded playlist that he used to help him sleep on rough nights when he couldn’t.

Kestrel bounded down the steps, skidding to a stop halfway down when she’d seen what Arin had done while he’d had her gather more pillows and blankets for them to use.

Arin shrugged when her awestruck gaze settled on him. “If we can’t be outdoors, then we bring the outdoors to us.”

She practically hopped down the rest of the steps, blowing out the candles they’d found and lit to preserve them for the day. They’d decided that they could use the flashlights for the night so that they wouldn’t risk forgetting to turn out the candles and burning the house down.

When they’d both settled onto the mattress, bundled up in the blankets and on their back, looking up at the artificial sky, Kestrel nudged him.

“Why camping?”

“Two years ago, one of your New Year’s resolutions was to go camping because you’d always wanted to go, but never had the chance.”

“You remembered that?”

Of course he did. “Of course,” he admitted. “I was going to take you for your birthday that year, but then…” Kestrel’s hand slipped into his. She squeezed it.

“The accident happened,” she finished.

Silence fell over them as they watched the lights dance across the ceiling. Kestrel hadn’t taken her hand away from his. His thumb stroked the birthmark he knew she had there.

The silence was broken when Kestrel snickered, teasing him, “But during winter, Arin? _Really?_ ”

“It wasn’t supposed to snow!”

That only made her laugh harder.

*

Early Morning of Christmas Day

Arin woke to lips on his jawline. To a leg thrown over his body and his arm wrapped around a puff. The light projector had shut off. His phone was silent. Judging by how dark the room was still, it was either still night or early morning, before the sun came up. He wouldn’t be able to tell until he got up and checked his phone and outside to check if the snow had fully barricaded them in. But he didn’t particularly feel like moving from being partially pinned down by Kestrel’s body.

“Merry Christmas,” Kestrel murmured sleepily against his skin.

Every part of him tingled. He squeezed her hip, tugging her closer. An indecipherable noise spilled from her throat, but rather than pull away, she nuzzled her face deeper into his neck. Her lips grazed his skin again.

“M-Merry Christmas,” he croaked.

Something had changed between them. He thought that maybe he was dreaming. It _felt_ like hew was dreaming. His eyes were still heavy with sleep. And though he wanted to turn, to fully hold Kestrel, he couldn’t move. Her breath came soft and slow at his neck, signaling that she’d drifted back to sleep.

Arin soon followed.

*

Later That Morning

The next time Arin woke, it was to Kestrel’s fingers grazing his jaw. He kept his eyes closed, but he turned his head into her hand.

“I didn’t know you had to shave,” she chuckled softly, gently scraping the stubble on his cheeks.

Now it was his turn to tease her. “You were watching me sleep.”

Her fingers faltered, but only for a moment. They’d moved from the stubble at his jaw toexplore the planes of his face. They tickled his eyelashes and eyebrows, poked at his cheeks. Her thumb passed over the corner of his mouth. Dusted over his lower lip.

“You’re… not breathing,” she mused.

He wasn’t. Arin was almost sure he was still asleep. Maybe they’d died and he was in his own form of heaven. But he most definitely wasn’t breathing. His heart was running a race it wasn’t going to win.

Kestrel’s thumb traced the shape of his lips. Her warm breath fanned over his cheek. “You never…”

Arin opened his eyes to meet hers. To find that their noses almost touching.

“You… Never kissed me again… After that one time.”

He was already hot, borderline sweating. Still, heat rushed to his cheeks. When they were sixteen, the last time they’d used the hidden treehouse in the woods near his childhood home, Arin had kissed her. She had looked so ethereal with the light of the moon hitting her golden hair, and making her eyes gleam.

His lips had been on hers before he’d blinked. It was a quick kiss because they’d been called home, and Arin never knew if Kestrel had been repulsed by it. And because neither of them had spoken of it, Arin had thought Kestrel thought it was a mistake. At the risk of losing her friendship, he pretended like it hadn’t happened. As in, he never brought it up or even alluded to it.

“I didn’t think—I mean, I didn’t know—I mean, I thought—” The corners of Kestrel’s mouth slowly stretched, understanding his hesitance.

“You didn’t think very clearly. I kissed you back, remember?”

She had? “No?”

Kestrel shook her head. “You’re really hopeless sometimes, you know that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t—”

Every inch of him froze as Kestrel pressed her lips to his softly, hesitantly. When he didn’t pull away, she deepened the kiss, nipping softly at his lower lip. It was the switch that had Arin shifting their bodies to bring Kestrel even closer, pulling her half on top of him. He kissed her hungrily, greedily as if he’d never kiss her again. As if she were the life force in his veins.

Years. He’d wanted to kiss her again for _years_. He’d wanted _her_ for years. Most of the time, he kicked himself for yearning for his best friend, who’d never seemed interested in him. His friends often teased him about it.

He broke apart from her, resting their foreheads together. “Wait… I’m just a little confused.”

She kissed him, and he took a moment to kiss back. “About?”

“You’ve never… seemed interested in me as anything more than a friend.”

Kestrel blinked. She pulled away to sit up and stare down at him blankly. Her mouth opened and closed in disbelief. She ran a hand through her hair. “Are you serious?”

Arin sat up, staring at her with a raised brow. “Yes?”

She brought her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them with a sigh. “Arin…”

“Kestrel…”

“You’re hopeless.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he blurted.

Kestrel laughed.

*

Later That Day

The snow had reached Kestrel’s head, but looking through the windows upstairs, the snow had finally stopped. Arin had tried for the power again, to no avail, and they still had no phone service.He had to hope that his cousin _had_ sent for help and didn’t assume that he and Kestrel were doing fine.

In the meantime, he and Kestrel spent their Christmas reliving the years of their friendship, but through Kestrel’s perspective.

“I thought you turned Ronan down because he was pretentious, spoiled, and because he was a shameless flirt with two girlfriends on the side,” he said.

“Well, yes, that, but mostly because of you. And then you didn’t even ask me to the dance!”

“Because he told me you were going with him!”

“And you believed him?”

“Not until Jess confirmed it.”

Kestrel’s face soured at the mention of her ex-best friend’s name. Their relationship had been a rocky one from the start, mostly forced upon them when they were kids and their parents were friends. Kestrel had told them that they’d played nice for a while, but Jess and her brother had different views than Kestrel did.

Especially when it came to Arin.

“You should’ve known better than to trust her word too.”

Arin shrugged. “She _was_ your best friend at the time.”

She groaned. “Please don’t remind me of my past mistakes.”

“All right,” he said with a nod. “Then what about that—”

Outside, a faint whirring grew closer and closer, cutting Arin off and turning his attention to the snow buried window. A small pit formed deep in his belly.

“Is that—”

Kestrel leaped from her spot on the mattress, nearly knocking the bowl they’d been eatingtuna and crackers from to the ground. Arin caught it as she bounded up the stairs.

“Arin! It’s a helicopter! Help me get one of these windows open,” she grunted, clearly trying to get it open on her own.

He ran up the steps, two at a time, finding her in the kids room. It was the only room with a wide, clear view of the lake, and the only one the helicopter would be able to see them from. She huffed, moving away from the window to shake her arms out before trying to open the frozen window again. He shooed her away and tried his hand at it. The window budged slightly, but not enough.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her. “You grab something bright and noticeable, and start getting our stuff together.”

Arin ran down the stairs to nab the gallon of water they’d been rationing, ignoring the growing pit in his stomach. They were being saved. They weren’t going to freeze or starve to death. That was all that mattered.

When he returned, Kestrel had rummaged around in the closet and set a neon pink tutu by the window. He could hear Kestrel stomping about in the rooms they’d stayed in, and then charging down the stairs to gather their clothes. With the helicopter’s buzzing slightly fading, he poured water on the edges of the window, praying to the gods that it would melt the ice the held it shut.

Thankfully, the window budged a little more. It was enough that he’d be able to stick his hand through to flag them down with the tutu, but it would be uncomfortable. He poured more water on the edges, and slid the window open even more.

He grabbed the tutu and stuck his hand through, waving the garment around as much as he could. He knew he’d probably have more luck on the roof, but he didn’t want to risk falling on the climb up or, if he managed to make it to the roof, slipping off and getting injured.

Tutu waving would have to do.

Though it wasn’t doing much for him at the moment. The whirring had faded. He could still hear it, which meant they were still in the area, but he knew they had to be searching for any forms of life on the ground.

“Come on,” he grumbled, pulling his arm back in. He couldn’t feel his hand, having it completely numb from the cold even with his gloves on. He stuck his head out, craning his neck to track the helicopter’s whereabouts. “Come on,” he said again, this time to urge the helicopter back toward the house.

The helicopter circled around back toward the house.

Arin thanked the gods and switched the tutu into his non-numb hand, shoving his arm through the window to wave it in the air again.

Behind him, Kestrel bustled into the room.

“Have they seen you yet?”

“Not… Yet…” he gritted, waving the tutu more frantically as the helicopter grew closer and closer. Until at last it was hovering over the house, swirling up so much snow and cold that Arin had to pull his hand back in.

Kestrel shielded her face with a scarf and stuck her head out the window.

“Tell the idiot that he’s an idiot!”

Arin would know that voice anywhere. Still, purely to tease him, Kestrel turned to him with a glint of amusement in her eye.

“Roshar says you’re an idiot.”

*

Now that they were settled in Roshar’s private use helicopter, the pit in Arin’s stomach grew, spreading from his head to his toes. He couldn’t hide from it anymore.

He didn’t understand why, although Arin was happy that they’d been saved, he didn’t _feel_ happy. Part of him just couldn’t help but think that whatever had happened between him and Kestrel was an odd sort of Stockholm Syndrome.

He hadn’t kidnapped her. He hadn’t been keeping her hostage. But they were in a dire circumstance. Arin was familiar to her. Perhaps it was a spur of the moment ‘oh-gods-I’m-going-to-die-without-a-last-kiss’ sort of thing. Or maybe she’d realized _his_ feelings for her and felt bad and decided to give him his last dying wish before they died.

A small hand gripped his knee, giving it a small squeeze before moving up until it caught his hand and entwined them together. Arin watched as Kestrel lifted his hand to her lips, giving him a smile that told him she wasn’t going anywhere, soothing every part of his soul.

She squeezed his hand, mouthing, “I love you.”

Arin was flying, and it had nothing to do with the helicopter.

“I love you too,” he inadvertently said out loud.

“Well it’s about damn time,” Roshar exclaimed through the headset.

Arin’s face went hot as Kestrel’s laugh followed in the headset shortly after. She shook her head, mouthing, _hopeless_.

This time Arin didn’t say a word. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

 _Only for you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just pretend i know what i'm doing when it comes to survival lmao


	8. Sneaky Santas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for their school secret santa, kestrel and arin "choose" each other. it's a good thing their feuding families don't know, or else enai would be denied the most adorable gift of the season.

“No, Papa,” Kestrel scolded. She tossed aside the toy her father had give her, and pointed at something else on the shelf.

Trajan picked it up, studying it before handing it to his daughter, who grinned like he’d never seen before. He frowned. “Are you sure your Secret Santa wouldn’t want something more fun instead? Like a toy car or a doll?”

Kestrel stood on her tip toes to gingerly place the microphone in the cart. “Mhm. I’m sure.”

“All right,” he sighed. “Anything else?”

Without waiting for him, she skipped a little further down the toy aisle, stopping to point at a toy guitar. “That one.”

He brought it down and gave it to her to inspect. Happy with the condition, she put it in the cart as gently as she had done the microphone. She climbed onto the back of the shopping cart and directed him toward the stationary section next as if he were nothing more than a taxi. And he supposed he was for the time being.

Kestrel hopped off the cart and took her time to browse through the faux leather notebooks. Trajan could say a lot about his daughter, but he couldn’t say that she had poor taste. He could place the blame on himself for spoiling her, and raising her to never accept less than what she deserved—which was everything. But there was nothing to regret, so there was no blame to be placed.

She picked up a small, thick, almost sketchbook looking notebook, then moved on to the writing utensils, where she took even more time studying the items. Finally, she picked up a pack of pencils, a pair of the most expensive pens the store had, and a small pack of erasers. She spread out her coat in the cart’s child seat before carefully placing her picks on top of it.

“I’m ready,” she exclaimed, beaming up at him.

Trajan eyed the items in the cart, then his daughter. “So which one are you picking for them?”

“All of them,” she answered instantly.

“Kestrel, the school gave us a twenty-five dollar limit for the Secret Santa. We have to pick one.”

Kestrel frowned, her eyes watering a little. “But I want them all.”

He stared his daughter down, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to cry if he made her leave the toys she’d chosen. Just as he knew that the puppy dog eyes she gave him were purely show. Still… They were very convincing.

“I’ll have to talk to your teacher, but fine.”

His daughter squealed in delight.

*

Anireh groaned, pushing the cart behind her almost eight year old brother. “I just don’t understand why _I_ have to be the one to chaperone you while you shop for some kid.”

He was ignoring her, too raptured in the toys to probably even realize that she _was_ chaperoning him in his little shopping excursion for a stupid Secret Santa thing his class had going on while their parents shopped for groceries. _She_ should’ve been in the clothing section.

She could still go. Arin was old enough to be on his own in the store. He would know not to get lost, and he would know exactly what to do if anyone tried to snatch him up.

Not that she thought anyone would. Who would want a snot-nosed brat like him? She certainly didn’t.

Arin picked up a doll before quickly discarding it with a wrinkle of his nose. He was taking his sweet, sweet time all for a stupid toy. She almost wanted to ram him with the cart. But if she did that, then she wouldn’t be able to go to the Jingle Bell Bash on the weekend.

Her brother deemed this aisle of toys unworthy, and she thought she was free until he turned the corner to another aisle. She didn’t ram him with the cart, but she did ram her forehead into the handle—gently, of course. The last thing she needed was a bruise marring her face.

Finally, _finally_ , he picked out a game and set it in the cart like it was made of glass.

“Great, let’s go.” She started whipping the cart around, but Arin yelped.

“Hey! I’m not done yet!”

Of course he wasn’t. She rolled her eyes as he continued his way down the aisle, then turning down another one.

Sweet gods, she was going to be there for the rest of her life.

“Ani, come here! I need your help!”

Anireh let out another groan. She’d already told him to stop calling her that. It was kind of cute when he was a baby and couldn’t say her full name, but he was old enough now to say it properly. She rounded the corner to the next aisle, finding Arin staring up at a toy piano.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “The budget is twenty-five dollars.” She pointed at the game in the cart. “You’ve got fifteen dollars left to spend.”

It was Arin’s turn to roll his eyes. “Would you just bring it down?”

“Fine.” She removed it from the shelf, ignoring Arin’s warning about being careful with it as she threw it in the cart. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when Amma and Etta say they’re not buying it. Now, let’s go. I want to check out the clothes.”

Arin scowled at her then surveyed the box for any damage, as if he had x-ray vision.

“Go by yourself,” he muttered, pushing her away from the cart to take an awkward hold of the handle. “I’m still not finished.”

“Whatever,” she threw back at him, fed up, leaving him to his own devices.

As it turned out, her parents—also known mostly as her mother when it came to Arin— _hadn’t_ said no to the game, the piano, the odd looking toy dagger, and the pretty dress Arin had picked out for his Secret Santa. But they had said no to the mountain of clothes she’d picked out, forcing her to choose only two items.

It would’ve been nothing, but her father had always had a soft spot for her, they way her mother had one for Arin, even though she poorly tried to hide it.

Not that she’d have anywhere to wear them to since they’d grounded her for leaving Arin alone at the store, meaning she was going to miss the Jingle Bell Bash.

Anireh always thought it, but she was sure she would think it a thousand times more. She would think it until the day she died.

She really hated her little brother.

*

Kestrel and Arin weren’t allowed to exchange their gifts until after school, when all the other kids had left. Enai also had to hide their massive gifts for each other in one of the closets that was closed off to students. This way, the other students wouldn’t be jealous that the two of them had gone over the budget limit. 

But all throughout the school day, Enai noticed Arin’s leg bouncing beneath his desk. Or catch him twirling his pencil in his hand. She’d notice Kestrel tapping lightly on her desk or knees. Or nibbling at the skin of her fingers.

They were a push and pull system. When one moved, so did the other. When one was hurt, so was the other. When one succeeded, so did the other.

It was a marvelous thing for Enai to watch in her two young students. In anyone, really. They were children, but Enai could see, even now, that there would be nothing to keep them apart. They were made for each other.

It was even more apparent when Enai remembered that they hadn’t pulled each other’s names from the hat, and had swapped with other students until they landed each other. And they’d somehow managed to keep the identity of their Secret Santa a secret from their own families! (Because Enai knew that had they known just whom the kids were buying things for… She would’ve received multiple calls to have it changed.)

She put a hand over mouth to contain her laughter as she watched Arin steal a glance at Kestrel, who anxiously glanced at the clock every five seconds. Those two… They were something beyond what anyone could imagine. They were going to give their feuding families trouble for sure.

The bell rang, and Kestrel and Arin took their time gathering their things while the other kids scampered about, picking up their things and putting on their coats, saying their goodbyes and Merry Christmases. Soon enough, Enai’s teaching assistant lead the other kids out while Kestrel and Arin waited patiently at their desks.

The moment the door shut behind the last child in line, Kestrel was the first to reach her.

“Me first,” she uttered in the true proud Valorian fashion.

Enai glanced at Arin, who shrugged with a sheepish smile. Her heart nearly caved in on itself. He was already so far gone…

“All right, then.” She stood and unlocked the closet door for Kestrel, who lunged inside before Enai properly had the door open.

Arin waited by Enai’s desk, fidgeting with the pens in their holder.

Kestrel came out holding a bag and an oddly wrapped box that told Enai she’d wrapped it herself. She set it on the desk, warning Arin not to touch them yet before darting back into the closet to grab his last gift. Arin eyed the gifts, but didn’t touch them as he was told.

“Okay,” Kestrel said as she approached the table with last, again oddly wrapped, present. She pushed it toward Arin. “Here.”

Arin reached for the bag, but Kestrel shook her head. “Save that one for last.”

He reached for the second smallest gift and ripped it open, Kestrel watching on, biting at her lips. He twirled the microphone box in his hands with wide eyes, cheeks slightly coloring with pink.

“You got really nervous during the spring assembly last year, so I got you that so you can practice performing,” Kestrel explained.

Enai swore her heart was going to explode. Arin look like his was too, but he ducked his head with a grin and reached for the second wrapped gift, shredding the paper open to reveal a toy guitar.

“Whoa,” Arin breathed. He strummed the few showing strings in awe.

“And that,” Kestrel went on. “Is also to help you practice performing but it goes with the other thing, too.”

Finally, Arin took the bag, removing the paper that covered the gifts inside. He pulled out a notebook and writing utensils.

“You’re always doodling and writing on napkins and stuff. So I just thought it would be nice to—”

“Thank you,” Arin cut her off, absolutely beaming at her. He leaned toward her to touch three fingers to the back of her hand.

Enai could see that he wanted to hug her instead, but he was hesitant, almost unsure if she would be okay with it or if she would find it gross like the rest of her student seemed to find each other. Though she doubted Kestrel, who’d nodded dazedly with pink cheeks, would’ve minded at all.

It was too cute to watch, that she almost looked away. But she didn’t because it was just too cute to look away.

Arin strode toward the closet, emerging with two boxes: one rectangular that indicated clothing and another, smaller box. He set them down on the desk, and like Kestrel had done to him, warned her not to touch them.

He turned toward Enai. “Could you help me with the other one?”

“Of course.”

When they returned, setting the much larger box on the ground next to the desk, Arin narrowed his eyes at Kestrel, who was now waiting in Enai’s chair, swiveling around in it innocently.

“You tried to peek, didn’t you?” he accused.

“Pfft,” Kestrel puffed. “No…”

But she wouldn’t stop spinning in the chair to look at him. Arin clearly didn’t believe her, but he only rolled his eyes and grinned. Enai wished she wasn’t their teacher so she could record them and keep a physical momento of this moment with her for the rest of her life.

The TA came back in at that moment, startling the two kids, who quickly ignored her, Arin handing Kestrel the large rectangular box to open first. The assistant glanced at them and then at her with raised brows as if to ask how they’d gotten away with that. Enai shrugged in response, and the TA made a puppy dog face, clutching her heart.

Turning her attention back to the kids, Kestrel had pulled a dress from the box and was holding it up to her body.

“I just… thought it would look really pretty on you,” Arin mumbled, averting his gaze from her. “But if it doesn’t fit, my mom put the gift receipt in the box.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kestrel remarked. She reached for something else in the box. A toy dagger, that was so expertly decorated that it almost looked real. “What’s this?”

Arin shrugged. He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, exactly. It just… suits you and I liked that it matched the dress.”

Kestrel pulled the plastic weapon from its fake sheath and sliced it through the air. Though she didn’t say anything, Enai noted the gleam of pleasure in Kestrel’s eyes and the way she carefully replaced her items back in the box before reaching for the the next wrapped box.

“Bite and Sting!” she cried out as the paper came away to reveal what was beneath it.

Arin grinned. “You’re always hogging the one here in the classroom, so I thought I would get you your own.” His grin turned into more of a smug smile that had Kestrel narrowing her eyes at him this time. “Plus, it’ll help you practice to try to beat me.”

Kestrel stuck her tongue out at him, but held the game tightly to her chest. An acceptance to his challenge. Gently, she stacked it on top of her dress box and rounded the desk to open the last present. This one had Kestrel stopping mid-paper ripping. From where she stood, Enai couldn’t see what the gift was yet or Kestrel’s face.

The small squeal from the other side of the room didn’t faze the two kids. They were in their own little bubble. She glanced at her TA, who was watching them just as enraptured as Enai was. She thought she saw tears in the assistant’s eyes.

Arin frowned slightly, kicking nervously at the ground. “You always take advantage of music class to play the piano as much as you can,” he paused to study hid friend, who still hadn’t looked up from the box. “I… overheard you telling Jess that you really wanted to play the piano, but that your dad wouldn’t get you one until you were older. So I just thought that maybe… This would be okay for now.”

The small girl shed the rest of the paper, letting Enai finally see that it was a toy piano. Her heart swelled three sizes in her chest and then promptly melted. Her own tears rushed to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Everyone knew of the famous pianist that was Kestrel’s mother, and how she’d died of cancer when Kestrel was only four. Just as everyone knew of Kestrel’s dream to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

Kestrel launched herself at Arin, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Arin,” she said in his ear, low enough that Enai almost didn’t hear it. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” She kissed his cheek.

In a daze, Arin hugged Kestrel back. His lips moved, but Enai couldn’t make out what was said, if anything was said at all. Kestrel moved away to start collecting the papers while Arin stood dumbstruck, his cheeks completely pink. He lightly touched his fingers to the cheek Kestrel had pressed her lips.

Enai wasn’t quite sure the boy was breathing, but then she wasn’t quite sure she was either. Every part of her had mushed to nothing. From the corner of her eye, she saw the TA wiping at her eyes. She took a moment to compose herself, standing when Arin moved to help Kestrel clean up the paper and toss it in the garbage.

“Arin, Lirah will take you out to your sister while I help Kestrel,” she informed them, sharing a knowing glance with the TA, who nodded in understanding.

“Okay,” they said in unison, sharing shy smiles with each other and whispering things amongst themselves as they donned on their winter wear.

Lirah slapped her hand over her face, mouthing, _oh my gods_. Enai knew exactly how she felt. She doubted she even had a heart anymore from the number of times it had melted and reshaped, only to melt again.

The TA took one of Arin’s gifts in hand while he carried the other two. Just as he reached the door, he turned back stopping before his friend. Quickly, almost afraid he was going to change his mind, he kissed her cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Kestrel.”

He spun on his heel and was out the door before Kestrel could say anything.

Kestrel blinked—as dazedly as Arin had been before—at the empty space left by Arin. Her cheeks flushed and she belatedly murmured, “Merry Christmas, Arin.”

Enai turned into a puddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for once trajan isn't an ass, eh? also kestrel and arin are the same age in this one too.


	9. Winter War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kestrel is determined to beat arin at one of their games, but she might lose more than just a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically kestrel's mom died when she was 7, but i pushed it back a little, even if it wasn't mentioned 😅

The first snowfall of the season had arrived late in the night, blanketing the city in white. Even the next morning, the snow still fell, and Kestrel didn’t have it in her to stay indoors while it happened.

Growing up, Kestrel had always missed winter because her family would travel to their villa in the Southern Isles for the cold months, only returning home once spring and summer hit. She’d thought the moving would end when her mother died, but it gave her father more of an excuse to keep bouncing around from home to home. That, and his job required that they constantly traveled, and each place they moved to was conveniently cold weather free.

It wasn’t a coincidence. Her father hated the cold. He had since her mother died.

But Kestrel was eighteen now, living back in Herran with her best friend, Arin, whom she’d known since she was eight and she still half-lived in there. She had been out on a secret horse ride—secret because she’d snuck Javelin out of the stables to ride him outside of her lessons—when Arin, a boy who’d lived about a mile away from her home, had come up trodding on his own horse, nearly spooking her off her horse, and calling for a race.

A race he’d unfairly won because he’d been riding for longer than she had, given that he was slightly older than she was, so he had more time to practice. But it was the start of their rivalrous friendship.

So no, she didn’t want to stay indoors. She may have been ten years too late, but she was ready to rectify the loss of the horse race and the many losses of every game they’d played after it.

*

It was easy enough to get Arin to go outside with her, though he wanted nothing more than to stay inside, warm and cozy, curled up with a book. She was surprised he had agreed so readily. It made her suspicious.

If there was anything she knew about her best friend-slash-rival, it was that somehow he always managed to be—at max—half a step ahead of her.

Not this time.

He had no reason to suspect her of anything but wanting to experience the snow. It was at least partially true, because she _did_ want to experience the snow. She wanted to make snow angel and build a snowman or attempt to build an igloo, like she’d read about in books and seen on the TV. She wanted to catch snowflakes in her mouth and try to catch them in her hand to compare their patterns. If they had any at all.

She just wanted to pelt Arin with snowballs more.

She couldn’t make it obvious, so the moment she stepped outside, she took a deep breath and hopped right into the snow. It went up to her shins, the cold seeping through her pants and sticking to her skin. Though she had her snow boots on, her toes instantly turned to ice.

She decided that she wasn’t made for the cold, and that she wouldn’t spend very long outside. But she was on a mission, and she wouldn’t go back to the safety of her warm home until she’d completed it.

Kestrel hopped again, relishing in the satisfying crunch the snow made under her boots ad she moved deeper into the center of the backyard, where she collapsed on her back with a small hiss at the being enveloped in ice. She shut her eyes against the falling snow, and waved her arms and legs to make her very first snow angel.

For a moment, Kestrel forgot about the cold of the snow. She forgot about her sneak attack on Arin. It was just her, waving her arms and legs foolishly, but it was oddly relaxing. She could feel her ever present tension leaving her body. Then again, it could’ve just been hypothermia or frostbite setting in.

She stopped moving her limbs, leaving them outstretched. She let snow collect on her face, sticking her tongue out just a little to trying to collect some in her mouth.

The crunch of snow broke her reverie, and she shut her mouth at the same time she opened her eyes to find Arin, bemusedly smiling down at her before he settled a little ways beside her to make his own snow angel.

“ _This_ is why you wanted to come out here?”

Kestrel felt her cheeks heat and she hoped that the stinging cold hid her blush well. “You know I’ve had a winterless life.”

“A tragedy,” he said sardonically.

The snowball war almost started then, but Kestrel held her ground. She still needed time to truly catch him off guard. Slowly, she rolled to her feet, trying her best not to disturb too much of her basic snow art before she got a proper look at it. She had to pack in and smooth out some of the snow that had crumbled with Kestrel’s movements, but once she’d done that, she couldn’t help but grin.

Seeing a picture or reading a description of a snow angel was nothing compared to the way one actually looked in person. She didn’t want to brag, but it was perfect and adorable. And despite her chilly, soaked pants, it had been fun making one.

She glanced at Arin, who was struggling to get up, but once he did, he hadn’t made even the smallest dent in his angel. She scowled when he came to stand by her. Her angel was laughable next to his. It was small, and the lines she’d had to fix were visibly crooked in comparison to his.

“It’s…” She glanced at Arin sidelong. He had his head tilted as he surveyed the angels in the snow. “Cute,” he finished with a contemplative whisper.

She fully turned to him, ready to chew him out for poking fun, but her words died in her throat when he pulled out his phone and held it up to the landscape. He shifted it a little higher and tapped on the screen before inspecting it. His fingers tapped at the screen and he replaced his phone in his pocket.

“Did you just take a picture of our snow angels?”

“Yes, I did,” he deadpanned, stomping into his angel.

Kestrel followed suit with her own. She kicked snow into a pile, kicking until she’d collected what she felt like would be enough, then she knelt and began shaping it into an igloo. Or _tried_ to shape it into an igloo. The snow was too soft, and it wouldn’t stick together, so whenever she tried to shape it, it fell apart.

Which meant that not only could she not make an igloo, but she wouldn’t be able to make a snowman. She also wouldn’t be able to properly form a snowball to wack Arin’s face with it.

“You’re pouting,” Arin teased as he sat across from her in the snow. He grabbed a handful of snow and let it fall through his fingers.

“I am not,” she countered, though she could feel the frown on her face now that he’d pointed it out. She puffed her cheeks, releasing the air in her lungs to make a cloud and plastered a smile on her face to hide her growing disappointment of the her first time in the snow.

She gathered up more and more snow, until it piled up to look like a lumpy mound of dirt. She was acutely aware of Arin’s gaze on her, but she ignored him as she made another, smaller pile that was slightly connected to the larger one. She poked a hole in the front of the smaller pile for the door. It didn’t last long, but she dubbed it a successfully made igloo and moved on to a miniature snowman.

The snowman came out more triangular as she made a large crumbling pile and topped it with a medium sized crumbling pile before capping it with a small crumbling pile. She didn’t particularly want to search for sticks for the arms, so she took off her hat and pulled a couple threads from the pom pom at the top to use for the arms. She also pulled off a few sequins for the eyes and buttons.

“You’re pouting again,” Arin pointed out.

Kestrel rolled her eyes, still not looking at him, choosing instead to try harder to make her snowman look more like a snowman rather than a pyramid with decorations on it. “No, I’m not.”

“Kestrel,” he crooned, sending a shiver through her spine. “There will be more snow days with better snow.”

He was right, she knew that. She wouldn’t admit it to him, she wouldn’t give him another win, but she knew that. Still, she couldn’t quell her disappointment, and part of her couldn’t even tell if it was because she couldn’t really do all that she wanted to do properly for the first time or if it was because it put a dent in her snowball war with Arin.

She just felt like one more thing had been taken from her, like her mom.

Arin’s hand covered hers, forcing her to finally look up at him. Her mouth went dry and her body warmed at the expression on Arin’s face. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him look at her that way before—it was becoming more and more frequent. As if she held the answers to the universe.

She turned her hand over to give his a squeeze.

“I’m fine,” she said truthfully. She shrugged. “There will be other times.” They wouldn’t be the first, but she’d still have them.

Kestrel released his hand to stick both of her hands in the snow, her fingers spread wide out. She pressed her hands into the snow as much as she could before she pulled them back up. She grinned at her perfect handprints.

“What do you think?” she started, turning to Arin. “Should I—”

Arin’s eyes widened a little, his lips formed a surprised ‘o’, but he didn’t drop his phone from where he held it up, pointed toward her. And his expression only lasted for a few seconds before it was replaced with the most smuggest, roguish smirk she’d ever seen. She ignored whatever feeling came upon her because of it for what she felt—shock, confusion, and maybe a little bit angry.

“You’ve been taking pictures of me?”

“Yes,” Arin answered. “I’m documenting your first time in the snow.”

She would’ve believed him, but he was still smirking, and there was a twinkle in his eye that Kestrel knew meant trouble. He’d always had that same twinkle when they played their games.

It was then that Kestrel knew Arin was on to her schemes. He probably had been from the moment she’d asked him to go outside with her. He just didn’t know how to goad her into following them through until right then.

She curled her hands in the snow. “I guess the jig is up.”

“I guess so,” Arin said with a laugh, tucking his phone into his pocket.

Kestrel hurled two piles of snow, leaping onto her feet to leave Arin’s area of trajectory. She ran straight for the tree for cover, squealing when one of Arin’s counterattacks landed beside her. She did her best to pick up some snow and toss it at him over her shoulder, but she doubted it actuallyreached him at all.

“Don’t even think about it,” Arin cried just as she reached the tree. One of his projectiles hit her back.

“Hey!”

She ducked behind the tree, gathering up snow in her hands as quickly as she could. She could hear the snow crunching beneath Arin’s running feet. She emerged from the opposite side of the tree, hoping that Arin had followed her around where she’d come from, only to bump straight into his chest.

Kestrel’s surprised scream was quickly replaced with her laughter as she shoved the snow in her hands into him before stumbling back to run from him again. She dodged Arin’s slew of flying snow piles, some of them successfully managing to get her back, shoulders, or legs.

Going on the offense, she whirled around, picked up as much snow as she could and threw it at Arin, who was kneeling on the ground, grabbing snow and tossing it at her like a machine. Their laughter and shouts rang through the air between them.

One of her dinky snowballs hit him right in his throat, making him fall on his rear, gripping his neck and choking a little. He lay on the ground, catching his breath.

Kestrel ran over to him, kneeling beside him to check him over. “Arin? Crap. Are you okay?”

His eyes were closed while he breathed deeply, eventually he stilled

She shook him. “Arin?” She poked him in his side. “Arin? Arin, are you okay?” She leaned over him, carefully cradling his cheek. “Arin?”

In her palm, she felt Arin’s cheek twitch. She reared back, scowling.

“You little—!”

He caught her wrist with a grin, his eyes snapping open. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his nose with hers softly. “Little Fists, I’ve got you.”

Then he poured snow all over her head.

Kestrel’s eye twitched as she stared at him while he shook with laughter. It took one little peck from him on her nose to have her tackling him into the snow. They rolled around a little, Arin tickling her as she showered him with snow, but she ended up on top, rubbing snow into his cheeks.

Arin caught both her wrists this time, forcing her to still and held her close. Too close. Their noses were touching again, their breaths mingled. His eyes looked so much lighter than they actually were, glinting with the light of the snow and the sun reflecting from them.

He wasn’t smiling, smirking, or laughing, but it didn’t make him any less beautiful. She was glad for it. She didn’t think her already racing heart would be able to handle it.

Arin reached up to brush her hair from her face, tucking a strand behind her ear. His thumb grazed her cheek.

His lips moved, but Kestrel couldn’t hear what he was saying. Not when she was too distracted _by_ his lips to be aware of anything. They were already so close. How could being a little bit closer possibly hurt?

It struck her that she’d just thought about kissing her rival, her best friend. Who was looking at her like… Like she was the prettiest girl in the world. Like he couldn’t possibly believe she existed.

Abruptly, Kestrel sat up, clearing her throat. She blinked away the daze Arin had set her in, and when that wasn’t enough space, she stood up to retrieve her hat from where she’d dropped it in their snowball fight.

“It’s getting really cold,” she said, shaking snow from her hat. It probably was cold out, but she couldn’t feel it. She was boiling beneath her coat. “We should go inside.”

From his spot on the ground, Arin was still trapped in the bubble they’d been in. He shook himself out of it as he got to his feet, scratching at the back of his neck and rubbing a hand through his hair. He nodded, not looking at her as he stood by.

“Yeah, I’m freezing,” he chuckled lightly, with an exaggerated shiver.

“We can… do this again another day,” she suggested, thinking about Arin’s hand on her face and hair.

Arin smiled at her over his shoulder, and her heart that was just settling down kicked into overdrive again. “We can.”

They were silent as they walked back inside and shed their winter clothes. Kestrel retreated to her room to change shower and change into dry clothes. Arin did the same. Their silence carried over into their dinner, the two of them avoiding looking at each other.

Until finally—and Kestrel had been waiting for it—Arin said, with such conviction that Kestrel almost believed him, “I won, you know.”

Kestrel scoffed. “You did not!”

Though he knew she was right, the look on Arin’s face made her feel like he knew something she didn’t. Maybe she really had lost again, after all.

It just wasn’t the game this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those that wanna know, arin told her she was beautiful... or that he loved her freckles. i couldn't choose so that's why i wrote it that way in the story 😂


	10. Here Is My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arin makes kestrel work a little for her gift

The next time Arin saw Roshar, he was going to throttle him.

No, he couldn’t do that. After all, Arin only had himself to blame for going along with something Roshar had suggested in the first place. He should’ve just followed his gut and done it the way he wanted to in the first place.

But then again, even if Kestrel was growing more and more frustrated with each box she opened to reveal an even smaller box inside, Arin couldn’t bring himself to _completely_ be angry with his friend or himself. He was stumping her for what could be the first time in her life, and part of him knew that if he _had_ gone through with his original plan, it wouldn’t be a surprise to his much to intuitive girlfriend.

She’d already figured out her first three presents…

His leg bounced anxiously as Kestrel pulled a smaller box from a slightly larger box with a groan. “Arin, how long does this go on?”

Arin pseudo-squinted at the box in her hands, checking for the pattern. She had about three more boxes to go before she reached her last and final gift, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He had to admit—he liked seeing her usually calm, collected demeanor shattered into frustration.

“About four? Five more to go?”

“ _Five_?” she gasped incredulously. She studied the box in her hands. It nearly fit into the palm of her hand, her fingers clawed to grip it underneath, keeping it steady in case there was something fragile in it. “How much smaller can they make boxes?”

“Small enough,” Arin answered with a shrug. He nodded at it. “Keep going.”

Kestrel glared at him, but continued on anyway. “Don’t be surprised next Christmas when you either get nothing, or nothing but boxes.”

“By next Christmas, hopefully I’ll have everything I want anyway,” Arin countered, low enough that Kestrel didn’t hear him.

At last, she reached the small, deep-set round wooden box that was hidden within the plethora of boxes she’d pulled it from. It was intricately carved with swirls that upon a close look contained the many dates that were important to them—the day they met, birthdays, their first date, their anniversary, this Christmas’ date—and the insignias for Herran and Valoria along with their initials.

He felt Kestrel tense beside him, saw her lips part in curious surprise. Her fingers traced the designs, always coming back to the date they met and the date that marked this exact night. Her brows furrowed at the purposefully empty spot on the box’s lid, but she thankfully didn’t ask about it.

The box was shut with a miniature lock that needed a key. She tugged at him, then rolled her head toward him to glower at him.

“Arin…”

He kissed her nose. “It’s somewhere on the tree.”

She pushed at his chest. “Arin!”

He grabbed her hand, pressing kisses to her knuckles and the little star birthmark just near her wrist. “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed it at all.” He touched the back of his hand to her forehead. “Are you feeling alright? You’re a little off your game…”

Kestrel swatted at his hand, sticking her tongue out at him. She stood, setting the box on the coffee table and turned her back to him to walk up to their extravagantly decorated Christmas tree in search of the key to the box.

Except the key was _in_ the box, not on the tree. Arin had a spare, but he kept it hidden where only he could reach—at the very top of a bookshelf.

While she looked, Arin reached into his pocket to pull out an usual engagement ring, but one that he thought suited Kestrel. The band was gold, a little thicker than most bands and shaped as a dagger, leaving a small gap between the pommel and the end of the blade. Embedded in the pommel was a citrine gemstone the wound around the center of the band and mixed with red garnet to look as if the the tip of the dagger was still cooling from the forge.

It had taken him a long time to design it. He’d asked for Roshar’s input, but he hadn’t helpful. He’d suggested for Arin to get one from a toy vending machine because it would be swapped out later anyway. So Arin asked Verex and Risha, but neither of them had much to give him either as they didn’t know Kestrel all that well.

Finally, he’d asked Sarsine what he should do, what she thought Kestrel might like in a ring and she’d only told him that Kestrel would like whatever he picked out. It wasn’t helpful, but it wasn’t unhelpful either. It helped him figure out that a bought ring didn’t suit Kestrel, and he wouldn’t have been satisfied with one.

It had taken him even longer to find someone to make the ring than it had shopping around and finally designing it. But it was in his hand and it was perfect.

He’d chosen a dagger because they’d met by a dagger. They were both visiting the museum, and she had been enamored by it. It was a lovely, sure, and the story behind it was bittersweet: a former slave had made it for his lover after he threw hers in the sea to forget her after her feux betrayal, but it all worked out in the end… despite the fact that she lost some of her memories.

But Arin had been completely enamored with _her_. When they first met, when they became friends, when they started dating, even now, he was so completely gone for her. Maybe even more so than before.

Arin quietly got down on one knee while Kestrel searched the tree. He wanted her then, he wanted her now. He wanted her forever.

“Arin, I don’t see a—” Kestrel gasped. She staggered toward him. “Arin… Is that… Are you…?”

“Kestrel,” he began.

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

Arin laughed. “I haven’t even asked! I have a whole speech planned.”

“Yes,” she said again, kneeling before him to cradle his face. “Yes, yes, yes, and _yes_.”

Arin narrowed his eyes at her, taking in her over-animated enthusiasm and slightly tense smile. He clucked his tongue. “You’re a terrible liar, Little Fists.”

The grin on her face dropped. Her brows furrowed. “What?”

He flicked her nose. “How long have you known?”

Kestrel’s hands dropped him from his face to his wrists. She gave him a rueful smile, lifting one of her shoulders. “A few weeks.”

He wasn’t going to ask her how she knew it. He didn’t want to know. Not if Roshar or anyone else had given him away. More than that, he didn’t have to know. She was observant, she’d probably seen him patting his pockets to check for the ring or something.

With a shake of his head and a chuckle, Arin held up the ring.

“Kestrel,” he began again.

The corners of her mouth twitched. Her hold on his arms tightened, and she practically vibrated with joy. “Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she sighed, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask her all her life.

Arin slipped the ring on her finger, and she admired it with awe. Her eyes glimmering with tears. He pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her temple, her cheeks. Kestrel wrapped her arms around him.

“You knew I’d say yes. You put today’s date on the box.”

“It’s only fair. You knew I was going to ask.”

She choked out a laugh, sniffling and wiping at her face. “The empty space on the lid is for our wedding date, isn’t it?”

He nodded, kissing her jaw. She took hold of his chin to bring his lips to hers softly. It was a slow kiss, the kind that drew out every part of Arin and gave them to Kestrel. He’d already given her everything, but there was always little bit more to give.

Whatever it was, Arin would give it.


	11. Snowy Aisles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kestrel isn't freaking out about her wedding at all. not one bit. she's completely fine.

Kestrel tucked her head between her knees, taking deep, slow breaths. Part of her wondered if she had made the right decision in choosing a winter wedding, but Arin had proposed in winter, on Christmas Day. And it had seemed fitting. Not that it mattered much because the day had arrived, and they couldn’t change the date.

But it wasn’t supposed to snow. And even if it was, it wasn’t supposed to be bad enough that people were texting her to say that they weren’t going to be able to make it.

Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered her much. She wasn’t close to them, she’d invited them mostly out of obligation. And the most important people that had to be at the wedding were already there. But the caterers wouldn’t make it to the reception, and they probably wouldn’t make it to the venue for the reception. And their officiant was still missing in action.

It just made her feel like maybe it wasn’t the right time.

She may not have believed in the gods, but she was sure that something or someone was intervening. They should’ve elope like Arin wanted to. Like she had initially agreed to. They didn’t need anyone else to be there for them.

Just her and Arin.

Kestrel knew, though, that if she had done that Sarsine and Roshar would’ve been hurt. Her old nanny and longtime friend, Enai, would’ve been hurt, too. She didn’t want to do that to them. And if she was being honest with herself, she would’ve regretted getting married without them to celebrate with her.

If that wasn’t enough stress, Kestrel’s stomach was in knots and it threatened to empty her of its contents all over her dress. And the last thing she needed was to ruin her beautiful A-line dress that she chose specifically because it matched Arin’s eyes. Not that it really mattered. Kestrel would walk down the aisle naked just to marry Arin.

Non-existent gods, she was marrying Arin. _She was marrying Arin_. The man she could only dream of. The love of her life. The only one who was every part her equal. Her very best friend.

Kestrel wiped her sweaty palms on her legs.

She shouldn’t be nervous. There was no need to be. It was _Arin_. Her Arin. Whether the wedding was outdoors or in their reception room where they’d been moved, whether people showed up or not, whether she ruined her dress or not, they were getting married.

She stood, smoothing out the skirt of her dress and glancing in mirror of the hotel bathroom to check her hair. She touched up on her hair. She studied herself, taking deep, calming breaths.

There was a knock at the door, and Roshar stepped in. His arrival could only mean that the officiant had arrived.

She supposed it was odd that he was both the one walking her down the aisle and Arin’s best man, but her father didn’t exactly care much for Arin, and Enai was too old to properly give her away. Besides, she wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to give her away.

He eyed her carefully, and in the least Roshar-like action, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and gave her a soft smile. “You clean up well, Little Ghost. Very ghastly, if I might say.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight her returning smile. Roshar took her hands into his.

“Relax. He loves you, Kestrel. He’d be waiting at the altar even on his deathbed.”

Her shoulders dropped in relief. “I know.”

“Then chin up.” He nudged her chin with his fist before stepping aside and holding his arm out for her to hold while he escorted her. “I have never seen two people who belonged together more than you and Arin.”

Kestrel places her hand in the crook of his arm, tugging at it so he leaned down a little for her to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Roshar.”

“But if you hurt him, I don’t care if you’re my best friend too. I _will_ ruin your life.”

“I know,” she laughed.

Reaching the doors to the ballroom, Kestrel squeezed Roshar’s arm.

“How bad is he?”

“Sarsine and I almost had to chain him to bed. He kept pacing the room and tried to find excuses to make sure you were in the building.”

Kestrel snorted.

“Laugh all you want,” Roshar said, nudging her. “We lost him at one point, and caught him just before the elevator arrived. It was like we were dragging a rabid animal back to the room.”

And the whole time she’d been in her room, wondering, deep down with the rising issues that her superstitious and gods-fearing fiancé would’ve seen as signs, if he had doubts. If they would need to push the wedding back. Or worse—not having it at all.

Roshar patted her hand. “I told you. You two belong together.”

And the wedding march began.

*

Kestrel hadn’t seen the ballroom since the night before, but it had been completely transformed. The tables had been lined up against the walls to make way for the guest chairs. Someone had taken the silver garlands from the tables to pave an aisle and tossed the winter confetti that was sprinkled on them to the ground to give the illusion of the cobblestones outside.

She saw Enai sitting in the front row with Verex and Risha. She was surprised to see her old friend, Jess, sitting in one of the seats. They’d grown apart years ago, but not on particularly bad terms. At least on Kestrel’s end.

And there were a few distant friends and family that she nodded at as she passed them.

Sarsine, her maid of honor, stood at the altar in the officiant’s place.

Roshar leaned in to whisper, “Tensen tried to make it, but his car got stuck in the snow. Turns out it only takes a few minutes to become ordained.”

But Kestrel had stopped listening, had stopped paying attention to the world around her. In her new world there was only Arin, standing at the altar in a tuxedo that fit him like a glove with his grey eyes reddening and glistening with tears as he watched her walk up to him.

She faintly felt Roshar’s lips on her head before she placed herself before Arin.

“I’m supposed to be the one crying,” she teased quietly.

“ _Everyone_ cries at weddings, darling fists,” he croaked, taking her hand in his.

Everyone always said weddings were the one thing that couldn’t be easily forgotten, but Kestrel knew that she wouldn’t remember anything beyond Sarsine telling her and Arin to repeat after her.

She wouldn’t remember anything other than telling Arin, “I do,” and having him slip her ring on her finger. She wouldn’t remember anything other than doing the same for Arin or the moment Sarsine told Arin to kiss the bride, to kiss _her_. His wife. Her husband.

“My soul is yours, Kestrel, my beautiful, darling and cunning wife,” he murmured against her lips, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you. _I love you,”_ she told him.

From the moment they’d met when he’d told her about the story behind the dagger at the museum, to that point and forever beyond it.

Arin grinned, kissing her one last time. “Ready?”

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gimme some leeway, i've only ever been to one wedding in my life lmao (also sorry it's kind of rushed 😭)


	12. Is It Time Yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a very merry (if a little hectic) christmas from the kestrin family

Arin’s blanket was ripped from his body two seconds before a forty pound weight dropped on his stomach and bounced on him like a trampoline, knocking away all his breath. He opened his eyes to be greeted by a child version of Kestrel’s face—the only piece of him in her eyelashes—beaming down at him.

“Giffs, Etta! Giffs!”

“Shh,” Arin shushed, pushing himself up to sit. The little body slid onto his lap. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her nose. “Good morning to you too, my heart.”

“Merry Chrimas,” Anireh corrected him, matter-of-factly.

“Ah.” Arin scratched his head. “Is that today?”

She started bouncing in excitement again. “Yes! Yes! It’s Chrimas! Time for giffs! We have to wake Amma up.”

“Shh,” Arin shushed again, glancing at his still sleeping wife, who’d stirred slightly at the sound of her name from their daughter’s lips, but she settled into sleep again.

Kestrel lay curled on her side, snuggling a pillow that supported her swollen belly. If it weren’t because she’d tossed and turned all night, struggling to find a comfortable position to sleep in, then, once she did find a comfortable enough position, the baby kept her awake with their kicking, he would’ve been surprised that she was sleeping through the ruckus their firstborn was making.

He kicked off the rest of the covers, scooping Anirehinto his arms as he stood from the bed. “Come, my heart. Let’s let Amma sleep some more, hm?”

She pouted. “But what about da giffs?”

“We can open them when she wakes up,” he said, carrying her out of the room to one of the guest bathrooms instead of his private one so they wouldn’t wake Kestrel. “We have to wait for Uncle Roshar too, remember?”

Tears sprang to her light brown, nearly golden eyes. “But I wanted to open my giffs.”

Arin kissed her cheeks. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. We’re going to open presents. But first, do you want to help me brush my teeth? And then make breakfast?”

Whatever sadness and disappointment his daughter had was gone in an instant, replaced by a smile that always made his heart melt. She nodded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek to his.

“Will you help me wiff my teef too, Etta?”

“Of course, Little Kitten.”

*

Arin helped Anireh flip the pancake, making sure that his grip on her arm wasn’t too tight. She giggled when the batter splattered on the pan.

“Mm, that smells delicious,” Kestrel said as she waddled into the kitchen, rubbing at her swollen belly.

“Mama!” Anireh flung the spatula at Arin, pushing him away to charge for her mother. Forgetting that Kestrel can’t lift her anymore, she lifts her arms to be picked up. “Merry Chrimas!”

Arin removed the pancake from the stove and lowered the flame. He lifted his daughter so Kestrel could kiss her cheeks.

“Merry Christmas, princess.” She nuzzled her face into Anireh’s neck. “What are you doing?”

“Helping Papa make pancakes. He said when you wake up we can open giffs.”

Kestrel pulled away from her to raise a brow at him. He grimaced, reaching for her. He wrapped an arm around her, resting a hand on her bump. He pressed a kiss to her lips. Immediately, a tiny hand came between them. It pushed them apart.

Anireh wigged in his arms to be let down. He did as bade, and she made a beeline for her mother’s legs, wrapping her arms around them protectively. She scowled at him over her shoulder.

Form the moment they’d announced Kestrel’s pregnancy, she’d grown very protective of her mother. Even against her own father. Kestrel ran a hand through her hair.

“I did tell her she also had to wait for Roshar,” Arin informed his wife.

A small, scandalized gasp emitted from the child wrapped around her mother’s legs. Her eyes widened in panic.

“I forgot to wrap Uncle Ro’s giff!” And with that Anireh was bounding out of the room.

As soon as their daughter was out of sight, Kestrel stepped into Arin’s arms again. She gripped his shirt to pull him even closer.

“Now, where were we?”

Arin chuckled against her lips, repeatedly pecking them with kisses before moving on to the rest of her face. Kestrel giggled.

“Arin, it’s Christmas. Kiss me properly.”

“Christmas,” he said, still peppering her face with kisses. “Has nothing to do with kissing.” His tone dropped in suggestion.“But something tells me we won’t be alone long enough for me to _properly_ kiss you. So I’m taking what I can get while I can.”

Beneath his hand, Arin felt Kestrel’s stomach roll. He laughed, stepping away from his wife. He patted the spot the baby kicked lightly.

“Merry Christmas to you too, little one.”

Arin kissed Kestrel one last time, stepping away from her and focusing on making the rest of the pancakes as the pounding steps of their daughter sounded. Arin spared a ‘I-told-you-so’ look to Kestrel. Grinning, she rolled her eyes and reached over to steal one of the ready pancakes, breaking it into pieces to eat.

Moments later, Anireh charged into the room. She held up a Roshar’s gift—a festive log looking thing with a large red bow on top.

“I’m done!”

Kestrel strode toward her daughter, finishing up the last of her pancake. She held out her hand, and Anireh latched onto it without hesitation. “It’s beautiful. Let’s go find a spot for it under the tree while Papa finishes making breakfast.”

“And den I can open giffs?” Anireh asked, staring up at Kestrel with wide hopeful eyes.

Kestrel glanced at Arin, silently pleading for help. But they both knew they’d cave. Kestrel always had a little bit of a harder time telling their daughter no.

“One,” Kestrel conceded, turning back to Anireh. “You can open a small one, but the rest we have to wait for or else Uncle Roshar will be upset.”

Anireh squealed and tugged on her mother’s arm to lead her toward their tree. Kestrel mouthed _save me_ to him over her shoulder.

Arin snorted. “Good luck.”

*

For the tenth time, Anireh sighed, pushing the last few pieces of her pancake around on her plate.

“When is Uncle Ro coming?”

“He’ll be here, princess. Don’t worry,” Kestrel reassured her for the tenth time.

“But he’s taking foreveeerrr.” She let her fork fall to the table and crossed her arms over chest with a pout. Her eyes watered. “He’s never going to come.”

“He’s going to be here,” Arin chimed in. “Do you think he would _ever_ miss spending time with you?”

Anireh covered her eyes as she burst into full blown tears. “You’ve been saying dat for hours! I want to open my giffs!”

Never mind that they had only been awake for about three hours in total, Kestrel reached for her, pulling her into her lap as best as she could. Anireh buried her face in Kestrel’s neck, sobbing while Kestrel rubbed her back and hummed a song she and Arin had written specifically for her soothingly. She kissed her daughter’s head, murmuring that everything was fine and that Roshar was going to be there, even if he had to hijack one of Santa’s reindeer. Though she still cried, it made Anireh chuckle.

Arin snuck out of the kitchen to give Roshar a call. It rang a few times, but then he was sent straight to voicemail. Roshar had declined his call. The ass. Arin called again, and got voicemail right off the bat. He opted to text Roshar instead.

**Arin:** Would you stop ignoring me?

 **Arin:** Where are you?

 **Arin:** Anireh is waiting for you.

 **Arin:** She’s crying.

 **Roshar:** Who doesn’t cry for me? *smirk emoji*

 **Roshar:** Give me two minutes. I’ll be right there.

When he returned to the kitchen, Anireh had stopped crying and was back in her seat. She’d finished up her food and had moved on to playing with the toy she’d opened with Kestrel.

“What did he say?” Kestrel asked, picking at the pancakes left on Arin’s plate. He passed it over to her, his heart swelling when she beamed and drowned it with more syrup.

“He’ll be here in two minutes.”

“How long is dat?” Anireh perked up.

Arin held up two fingers. Anireh mimicked him with her own fingers. “Two minutes. Not very long.”

“Hooray,” she cheered and went back to playing with her toy.

*

Arin was going to murder Roshar. Half an hour later, his friend still hadn’t arrived. To appease their daughter, they moved into the living room and put on a movie. She nestled in between Kestrel and Arin, snuggling against her father and clutching her toy to her chest tightly.

With her tummy full, and having woken up earlier than normal, Anireh was steadily drifting off to sleep. Arin had tried to keep her engaged by asking her questions about the movie and making awed comments about the magical things that happened to prevent her from sleeping, but he’d given up when her answers became slower and slower.

It would bite them in the ass later. Waking up a toddler wasn’t an easy feat, but he hoped that the enticement of opening presents kept her mood in check.

“I’m going to kill him,” Kestrel said quietly, but her tone was pure venom.

Arin held out his hand toward Kestrel, making sure not to jostle their daughter. Kestrel slipped her hand into his, and he brought it to his lips.

“I’ll help you bury his body.”

*

Two hours later, Roshar had finally showed up. And empty handed. Arin stood in the doorway, staring at his friend’s empty hands, absolutely dumbfounded. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to Roshar’s face, whose face was split with a shit-eating grin that Arin just wanted to punch right off his face.

“Roshar.”

Arin shut the door as Roshar brushed past him, shaking snow off his coat before removing it and hanging it in the coat closet with the ease and confidence. As if _he_ owned the house. As if he hadn’t made a little girl start believing that she’d been stood up.

Thankfully, Anireh was still sound asleep. It wasn’t normal of her—she was a spitfire all the way until bedtime. Arin wouldn’t have been surprised if her fatigue was because she’d stayed up late waiting for Santa to visit while he and Kestrel slept. He’d moved her to his bedroom so Kestrel could nap along with her.

“What’s with the long face?” Roshar pulled Arin into a one armed hug that Arin didn’t return. He settled a scowl on him. “It’s Christmas. Tuck away your broodiness for just one day, yeah?”

“You’re late.”

Roshar held up a finger. “Ah, ah, ah. I have a good reason.”

“Please explain this reason. And also explain why you don’t have any presents in your hands.”

Roshar’s grin widened. “Oh, I have presents. You’ll see them soon. Now,” he stepped further into the house, making his way toward the dining room, where they’d moved everything out to use for their outrageous Christmas tree. He looked around. “Where is the little bomb?”

“She fell asleep waiting for you,” Arin told him, truthfully, but also to make him feel a little bad. It worked because Roshar skidded in his tracks, wincing.

“Do you think she’ll be angry with me?”

Arin always had trouble staying angry with anyone. He saw the good in people, and it was often his weakness. He didn’t mind it so much when it came to Kestrel, Anireh, Sarsine, and Roshar, though. They were his family. And because Roshar was his family, Arin knew him possibly better than Roshar knew himself.

So he knew that the last thing Roshar ever wanted to do was let Anireh down or make her feel like he didn’t care for her. Anireh was the apple of Roshar’s eye, even if he pretended like she was a menace.

“Of course not,” Arin said, patting Roshar’s shoulder. “You’re her favorite uncle.”

“Being her favorite means nothing. I’m everybody’s favorite. But I _am_ her only uncle.”

Arin wouldn’t remind Roshar about Verex, but mostly because Anireh wasn’t as close with him as she was with Roshar. He rolled his eyes.

“Let me go get the little princess.”

*

Selfishly, Arin woke Kestrel first, kissing her nose. She wrinkled it, rearing back a little, furrowing her brows. Arin chuckled. He kissed her nose again, then her forehead, eyelids, and cheeks.

“Wake up, my love. Roshar’s finally here,” he murmured softly in her ear.

She opened her eyes, slowly breaking away from her dreamland. She smiled softly, still a little drowsy with sleep, at Arin’s nearness. Arin kissed her, rubbing their noses together.

“We have to wake up your daughter. Her uncle is waiting for her downstairs.”

“ _My_ daughter?” She was fully awake now. Arin helped her sit up, kneeling before her with his arms still around her, hovering his head over her stomach. He kissed it lightly. She poked him in his forehead playfully. “ _S_ he wanted to stay inside a little longer and turned a week before she was due, and then almost ripped me apart when she finally decided she wanted to come out, remember? That makes her _your_ daughter.”

“Ah, so she’s _our_ daughter,” he said, not missing the joy laced in his voice.

“The one and only,” Kestrel grinned, placing a kiss on his head. Her fingers tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp. “For now.”

With Anireh, they’d known they were having a girl. But it would be a surprise with the new baby. Arin thought it might be a boy. When Anireh turned two, he’d had a dream of Kestrel swinging on their backyard porch swing, tickling the neck of a giggling boy who had her golden hair, her sun-given freckles, and Arin’s gray eyes. Kestrel thought it might be a girl from her experience with Anireh.

Arin rubbed at Kestrel’s lower back, making her eyes flutter shut in relief. She wasn’t due for another month, but Arin knew she was counting down the days until her due date. Her back and feet were always hurting. And she was always hungry and tired. Her first pregnancy had been easier on her.

Kestrel let out a small whimper when Arin pulled away from her, but he moved far enough away that his hand traveled down the length of her legs to her feet. He pressed his thumbs into the arches.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Kestrel sighed.

“It’s the other way around, Little Fists. Some days I think I’ll wake up from this dream.”

She smiled. “Who am I to deny you such a lovely dream?”

“You say that because I’m giving you a massage,” he said, dryly, rolling her ankles.

She pulled her feet away and stood, sending him a playful scowl. “I say that because I love you.”

Arin wrapped his arms around her legs loosely, moving them up as he stood and rested them at her waist. He kissed her lips. “And I love you.” He tapped her butt. “So, do you want to wake her up? Or should I?”

Kestrel sighed. “I’ll do it. You had to do it last time.”

And she’d had a fit because she wanted her mother. The time before that, she’d had a fit because she’d wanted her father. She was unpredictable, which often drove them a little crazy, but their life was definitely never boring.

She’d just rounded the bed to where Anireh had snuggled against her father’s pillow, when Roshar’s voiced boomed from downstairs, making her jerk awake. Her face immediately scrunched in the oncoming slaughter of tears.

“Hellllllooooo? It’ll be New Year’s by the time you get down here!”

Anireh’s fear and tears cleared up at the sound of Roshar’s voice, and she launched like a rocket, springing up from the bed and out of the room.

Still rooted to their room, stunned, they heard Roshar call out, “Wait, Anireh, don’t you—!”

Then the delighted squeal of their four year old girl, a thud, and a grunt from their best friend.

Kestrel and Arin shared a knowing look.

“Do we even want to know?” Kestrel asked.

“No, but we’re going to find out.”

Arin waited by the door, slipping his hand into Kestrel’s. Halfway down the steps, they saw Roshar flat on his back, clutching Anireh tightly while staring at the ceiling in a trance. She bounced on his stomach, merrily chanting, “Uncle Ro is here! Uncle Ro is here!”

Kestrel stepped up to their grab Anireh, who in turn, started to drag her toward the Christmas tree as she had done earlier. Arin peered down at his friend.

“How you two are even alive with that little menace is beyond me.”

He loved his daughter, he did. As much, if not more, than her mother. But he wondered the same, so he laughed and held out his hand to help Roshar up. As they made their way to the dining room, Roshar told him about Anireh jumping off the stairs halfway down, hoping he’d catch her.

Arin really didn’t know how he and Kestrel were alive. Or how they were going to do it once they added another baby into the mix.

*

The dining room was a mess of wrapping and tissue paper, ripped cardboard boxes, and gift bags. And there were still a few gifts that were left unopened. Anireh had her own little presents to pass out to the adults, but she wanted them to be opened last. And Roshar had yet to give Anireh her gifts from him, telling her that she had to wait until the _very_ last.

Anireh picked up one of the small gift bags that had been oddly stuffed. “I tink dis is Amma’s,” she looked at the bag, then held up a finger to her mother. “But wait I have to see. Don’t look, Mama.” She turned her back to her mother to check inside the bag.

Kestrel looked like she wanted to cry.

Anireh spun back around. “Okay, yes. Dis is Amma’s.” She gave Kestrel the bag and waited in front of her while Kestrel opened her gift.

Kestrel pulled out a pack of sparkly pink hair ties and a small flower toy that bobbed whenever it moved. She really cried then.

“You don’t like it?” Anireh frowned, her eyes widened with concern, threatening tears of her own.

“No, no. I _love_ it, my little princess.” She opened her arms and Anireh stepped into them, letting Kestrel cover her face with kisses. “After you, this is the best present ever.”

Anireh beamed, kissing her mother’s cheek before heading back to the tree to grab another oddly stuffed gift bag. She gave it to Arin. “Dis is for you, Etta.”

In Arin’s bag was a music note shaped eraser and a toy ring from the one of the toy ending machines at the grocery store.

She pointed at the ring. “It’s like da one I have, so we can match like you and Mama.”

Arin could physically feel his heart pooling from his body. He put the ring on the only finger it fit—his pinky, and even then it stayed stuck at his knuckle.

“I love it, sweetheart.” He kissed her face like her mother had. “Thank you.”

Satisfied, Anireh skipped to the tree to grab the log looking one she’d wrapped earlier and handed it to Roshar, who stared at it in surprise. As if he hadn’t been expecting anything. And despite Kestrel and Arin themselves buying gifts for him then and now, he always seemed surprised to get one anyway. It appeared that habit applied to his niece too.

Roshar peeled the paper off, revealing a stuffed beanie tiger and a picture frame. He blinked at it dazed, and Arin swore his friend’s eyes misted.

“I rember you were sad because your kitty dieded, so I got you a new one.” She stepped closer to point at the picture frame. “Dat’s me and dat’s you. And over here is Amma and Etta. And dat’s your kitty right dare. And dat’s da snowman and igloo we made. And we’re all playing in da snow. ‘Cept Mama because of her tummy.”

Roshar inhaled, tipping his head back and blinking rapidly. Then he exhaled and when he looked down, he looked like himself again. “You drew this?”

“Yeah,” Anireh puffed her chest proudly.

“No. I don’t believe you drew this. This is way too professional.”

Anireh giggled. “Yes, yes. I did drawed it.” She pointed at the picture again. “See? I put my name right dare.”

Roshar squinted at the picture. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“It’s right dare, Uncle Ro.”

He moved his face closer to the picture, and when he was close enough he playfully nipped at her finger, setting his gifts aside to snatch her into his arms where he pretended to munch on her neck. Anireh giggled and screamed.

“Etta! Papa! Help me!”

When she could barely breathe, Roshar pulled away. “Are you ready for _your_ gifts now?”

Anireh brushed her hair from her face, still slightly laughing, but she nodded enthusiastically. “I’m ready. I’m ready.”

Roshar stood from his seat, carrying her in his arms. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped away at the screen before putting it back. He tapped Anireh’s nose. “You’ll have to put on your coat and your boots.”

Arin immediately got to his own feet, narrowing his eyes at Roshar’s back. “What would she need to do that for?”

His friend spared him that same shit-eating grin from when he’d arrived. One that told him whatever his friend was up to was no good—not like it ever really was.

“Because her gifts are outside.”

*

Five minutes later, the group was standing in the backyard, staring at one of the reasons why Roshar had been so late. Kestrel’s mouth had dropped, and hadn’t raised for over a minute. Arin stared, warmth spreading through his body and knuckles tingled to be knocked into something.

Anireh, however, was screaming with joy, trying her best to climb onto the massive thing that Roshar had somehow snuck into their backyard without them noticing. Roshar scooted her away, telling her that she had to wait for the spring to be able to use it properly.

Finally, Arin found his voice. “A trampoline? You got a four year old a trampoline, Roshar?”

“Yes. And no,” he said, finally grabbing Anireh and holding her squirming body in his arms so she wouldn’t hurt herself with the trampoline. “I also got it for you two.”

That was a lie, and they all—minus Anireh—knew it.

Faintly, they heard a puppy yapping, but it grew close and closer until finally snow was being kicked up and a little golden lab covered with snow half ran, half hopped through the yard toward Roshar. It jumped at his legs, wagging his tail excitedly. Anireh gasped, wiggling in her uncle’s arms to be let go. Roshar set Anireh down, and the puppy turned to sniff at her.

Anireh stood incredibly still for the dog while it inspected Anireh. Deeming her worthy, it licked at her boot and Anireh took off in the yard, the puppy following her close by.

“Roshar,” Kestrel groaned, rubbing her temples. “Please don’t tell me you got her a dog.”

Roshar stayed silent, pursing his lips. Arin threw a snowball at him.

“We have a baby on the way. We won’t have time to take care of a dog.”

His friend shrugged. “So then I will until you two can take over. It’s not a big deal. And Anireh learns fast. I’ll teach her how to take care of her.”

Kestrel sighed deeply, turning her attention to her husband. “Should we do that thing now?”

Arin leaned down to form a snowball to hand to her. “I think we should.”

Kestrel threw a snowball at Roshar, and Arin tackled him before Roshar could fire back.

“Get Uncle Ro!” Anireh shouted, charging to jump on top of her uncle, the puppy joining her and Arin in the pile.

Together, father and daughter shoveled snow onto Roshar, who, for the sake of Anireh, pretended to put up a fight and pretended to lose. Eventually, Arin let Anireh take over, slinking back toward his wife.

“How’s that for a Merry Christmas?” Kestrel asked, letting Arin wrap himself around her from behind as extra shelter from the cold.

“I think we should appreciate for now because it’s only going to get more hectic from here,” he murmured in her ear, pressing a kiss to the spot he knew made her weak in the knees.

She inhaled sharply, puffing out, “Well, I’m glad you say that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I either peed on myself or my water just broke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry belated christmas and happy holidays!! 🤩💕 i am very sorry i didn't upload this on or before christmas like i wanted, but i got sick (and i still am sick) but i was just not feeling it 😣 i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it! 😄 next year will be better. i promise 💕
> 
> (ps technically anireh isn't their kid's name, but i needed something akdksj i couldn't keep writing 'their/his/her daughter'
> 
> pps my headcanon is that their daughter (you can fight me but in my heart i just KNOW they have a baby girl at some point after the series) struggles with the letter 't' sometimes, depending on which letter comes before or after it, but for the most part she speaks clearly because kestrel and arin don't baby talk her, so i added that in here. 😊
> 
> ppps if you want to know, verex is roshar's accomplice in setting up the trampoline and letting the puppy loose in the yard. he made a run for it after letting it go so he wouldn't be caught.)


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